I Believe You
by Owlix
Summary: What if Regulus Black had a daughter who spent her life in New York City and then transferred to Hogwarts at the beginning of Harry's 5th year? Enter Reggie Dolan, a proud New Yorker with loads of brass and even more sass! Follow her on her adventures through Hogwarts as she gains friends, enemies, and memories.
1. New Adventures

**Chapter One:****New Adventures**

I slowly made my way down the crowded hallway, trying to not step on any toes just yet. I had my full hiking backpack on my back and was tugging my school trunk behind me. I was trying to find an empty compartment to stash my stuff in, but every compartment I'd passed so far was full of chattering kids. I didn't want to have to deal with a large group, being completely exhausted from jet-lag at the moment.

"Do you need help?"

I jumped lightly at the dreamy-sounding voice. I looked over and saw a girl standing at the open door of an otherwise empty compartment. She had waist-long, light blond hair and wistful, heavy-lidded gray eyes, and she was smiling serenely at me as she waited for my answer.

"Uh … yeah, thanks," I said, taking a step towards her.

"You're welcome," she said, taking my school trunk and expertly putting it into the empty luggage rack above us. "You seemed like you were sleepwalking. I do that too, sometimes. That's why I wear shoes to bed."

I couldn't help smiling a little. This girl was a bit nutty, but I kinda liked it. She said whatever she wanted and didn't really care if you liked it or not. I noticed just then that her wand was hanging out behind her left ear, and that she was wearing what looked like handmade jewelry: a Butterbeer cork necklace and orange-bead earrings that looked like a mix between plums and turnips.

"That's a pretty smart idea," I said, putting my hiking backpack on top of my trunk. "The name's Reggie Dolan."

"I'm Luna Lovegood," she said dreamily. "You may join me if you like. People never join me, so it's always quiet."

"Thanks so much," I said, situating myself opposite Luna, next to the window. "I had to use an airplane to get here; I'm so jet-lagged, it's not even funny."

"What's 'jet-lagged'?" Luna asked.

"It means that, even though it's 11 o'clock here, my body thinks it's 6 o'clock in the morning because that's what it is back home in New York. I also just barely got off the plane, so I've also got travel fatigue too. So, long story short, I'm tired, I have a headache, I'm slightly grumpy, I'm gonna have a hell of a time going to sleep, and I'm gonna be like this for almost a week since I passed through five time zones."

"I see. I'll let you rest then," Luna said, whipping out her wand and turning the lights in the compartment slightly down before opening a magazine and reading it upside down.

I smiled gently at her. "Thanks, Luna," I whispered before closing my eyes and snuggling into my thick jacket.

'I correct what I said before,' I thought just before falling asleep. 'I _really_ like this girl. She's a keeper, for sure.'

I don't know how long I was out, but next thing I knew, something smelling like the New York sewers splatted me in the face. I woke up with a bleary roar, rather miffed at finding myself covered in smelly green slime.

"What the hell is this?!" I said, wiping my face clean.

"S-sorry," a plump, brown-haired, buck-toothed boy gasped. "I haven't tried that before … Didn't realize it would be quite so … Don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added nervously as the person next to me spat some onto the Stinksap-covered floor.

"How the hell'd this get here?!" I asked testily, flinging my arms downward to get the worst of it off of me.

At that exact moment, the door to the compartment slid open.

"Oh … hello, Harry," the pretty, dark-haired, Asian girl said nervously. "Um … bad time?"

The person next to me wiped their face with one hand, revealing a young man with glasses.

"Oh … hi," he said blankly, making me assume this was Harry.

"Um …" the girl said. "Well … just thought I'd say hello … 'bye then."

Her face was bright pink as she closed the door. Harry slumped in his seat and groaned quietly.

"Never mind," another girl said. With her red hair and brown eyes, she was pretty too, but in a more fierce way than the girl before. "Look, we can get rid of all this easily. _Scourgify!_" she said after pulling her wand out of her sleeve. The Stinksap vanished, even the smell (thank goodness).

"Sorry," the nervous boy said quietly.

I chuckled. "Well, at least you weren't trying to poison us," I said, leaning over to grin at him. He gave me a small smile in return. I stuck out my long-and-sharp-nailed hand for him to shake. "Reggie Dolan, at your service."

"N-Neville Longbottom," he said, shaking my hand with a surprisingly firm grip. I raised an eyebrow as I peered at his hand but then smiled and squeezed back.

"I assume your name is Harry," I said, looking at the dejected, black-haired young man beside me. He nodded, looking over at me with depressed-looking emerald green eyes.

"Harry Potter," he said tiredly.

I blinked in surprise and peered at him closely.

"Really?" I asked. "I thought you'd be taller!"

Harry looked at me like I was crazy. "Why?"

I shrugged. "You're a celebrity. Celebrities are always larger in pictures and stories. Then again, they're always smaller in person, so I don't really know why I'm so surprised," I added, chuckling again. "Anyway, nice to meet ya, Harry Potter. I'm Reggie Dolan."

"Reggie?" he asked, knowing it was mostly a boy's name.

I rolled my eyes. "Short for 'Regina'. Stupid name, really, but Mom said she named me after my dad, so I can't change it."

"Who's your dad?"

I shrugged again. "Mom only told me his first name: 'Regulus'. Honestly, what sick-in-the-head mother would give her son a name like that?!"

I looked back at Harry, and he was staring at me like he'd seen a ghost.

"Regulus _Black_?!" he asked quietly.

I blinked and stared back at him. "Black's my mother's maiden name … or least, that's what she said. Why? D'you know him?"

Harry blinked before glancing over at the fierce girl, looking like he was thinking really hard.

"… I think I know his brother," Harry said quietly. "I could write him and ask, but I'd need your mum's name, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," I said. "I'll even give you a picture." I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a copy of a picture of my mom right after she moved to New York, with her long dark hair done up in a fashionable twist and her dark eyes wide and bright as she grinned. I made many copies of this picture after I learned I was going to Hogwarts because I wanted to see if I could find someone who knew her. I wrote her first name on the back of the picture and handed it to Harry.

"Her name's Nienna," I said as Harry looked at the picture. "Her parents were really into Tolkien and all that."

"Into what?" the fierce girl asked.

"Tolkien," I said, almost amazed that these people hadn't heard of one of my favorite authors. "Y'know, J.R.R. Tolkien? Wrote The Hobbit and Lord of the Ring? Ever heard of 'em?"

She shook her head, flinging her deep red hair around.

"Raised by pureblood wizards," she said. "Sorry. They sound good, though."

"Oh, they are!" I said ecstatically. "The movies are even better!"

"Movies?" Ginny repeated, leaning forward excitedly.

I nodded and stood up to take my iPod out of my hiking backpack.

"You might not be able to use that on the train," Luna said serenely, as if talking about a pretty cloud she just saw.

"I had it enchanted years ago," I said. "I'll be able to use it, don't worry."

I went into the videos main menu and clicked on the first "Hobbit" trailers. I then turned my iPod so everyone could see; they all leaned forward and gazed at the screen avidly. I chuckled at seeing Bombur break a bench, quietly sang along with the dwarves, and grinned mischievously at the subtle appearance of Gollum.

"What the bloody hell was that thing?!"

I looked up and saw a red-haired young man staring in horror at the screen. There was a bushy-haired girl behind him. I turned my grin up at them.

"One of my favorite characters in all of Middle-Earth," I said. "His name is Gollum. I've got another video here; you can see even more of him."

With that, I clicked on the second trailer and allowed everyone to see it. I chuckled at Bilbo's response to Gollum saying he'd eat Bilbo and at the end scene, where the Goblin King fell on top of the dwarves.

"I love that book!" the girl said when the trailer was over. "That was one of the first books I ever read on my own!"

I stared at her in surprise. "How old were you?"

"About six, I think," she said.

I whistled in amazement. "Damn! That's a heavy read for a six-year-old."

"I didn't understand all of it the first time," she said, "but when I read it again a couple years later, I understood much more."

"Have you read The Lord of the Ring?" I asked.

She grinned and nodded. "I never saw the movies though," she said sadly. "Mum and Dad thought they were too violent."

I rolled my eyes. "As if it would be worse than anything you could come up with yourself! Imaginary violence is always worse than real violence."

Harry chuckled, to my surprise. "That's for sure," he said, sounding like a war vet I'd once met.

I gave him a small smile. "Lots of adventures?" I asked.

Harry nodded, giving me a smile in return. "You have no idea."

"Oh, I probably will," I said, grinning mischievously, "'cuz you're stuck with me now. I'll be taking part in your adventures before long!"

To my surprise, Harry looked slightly worried at first, but he wiped that look away to grin back at me.

"If you say so," he said before turning to talk to the redhead and the bushy-haired girl.

I raised my eyebrows, slightly confused at how Harry was treating me. Was he trying to … protect me or something? Well, he had no need to, as far as I was concerned. I'd already been through Hell and back; I wasn't afraid of any so-called "adventure" and I would make sure he knew it.


	2. New Friends and First Enemy

**Chapter Two:****New Friends and First Enemy**

After some more introductions, I finally knew everyone's name. The redhead was Ron Weasley, the bushy-haired girl was Hermione Granger, and the fierce girl was Ron's little sister, Ginny Weasley. In the middle of the introductions, the "lunch trolley" came by; Harry bought a load of Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin Pasties, while I bought a few Chocolate Cauldrons.

At the moment, Ron and Hermione were complaining about the choices for Slytherin Prefects. Apparently, the students at Hogwarts were split into four groups – Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin – and those who were in fifth year, like us, could become "prefects", kinda like a hall monitor. Judging by how people talked about the Slytherin Prefects, they weren't exactly the greatest people. One prefect was called simply "Malfoy" and the other, Pansy Parkinson, was a "complete cow", according to Hermione.

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," Ron said, checking his watch, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something …"

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all," Ron said sarcastically.

"So you're going to descend to his level?"

"No! I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine."

"Nice," I said, smiling a little. "Going for a pre-emptive strike!" I gave Ron a high five when he grinned at me.

"I'll make Goyle do lines," he said. "It'll kill him, he hates writing." He lowered his voice to a grunt and, while screwing up his face in pained concentration, wrote in midair. "_I … must … not … look … like … a … baboon's … backside …_"

Everyone laughed, but Luna's laughter was the loudest and wildest of us all. She laughed so loudly that she upset the beautiful Snowy Owl that belonged to Harry and the mangy-looking orange Persian cat that belonged to Hermione. Her eyes were swimming with tears as she rocked back and forth, grabbing her sides. Everyone was now laughing at her persisted laughter and the look on Ron's face as he stared at her.

"Are you taking the mickey?" Ron asked, frowning at Luna.

"Are you speaking English?" I snapped back, frowning at him.

"Of course I am," Ron said indignantly.

"He means, 'Are you making fun of me,'" Hermione said, kindly translating the English phrase into American for me.

"Thanks, 'Mione," I said. She smiled back at me.

I settled back into my seat and stared out the window at the landscape, my stomach contently full of chocolate and pumpkin.

"Anything good in there?" Ron asked after a long while. I looked over and saw that Harry had Luna's magazine and was reading it with Ron looking over his shoulder.

"Of course not," Hermione said derisively. "_The Quibbler_'s rubbish, everyone knows that."

"Excuse me," Luna said, her voice surprisingly steely. Her Irish accent was extremely prominent now. "My father's the editor."

My eyes widened and I couldn't help chuckling. "That would be a fail," I muttered.

"I – oh," Hermione said in embarrassment. "Well … it's got some interesting … I mean, it's quite …"

"I'll have it back, thank you," Luna said coldly, snatching back her magazine and continuing to read it upside down. We were fortunately saved from an awkward silence by the sound of the compartment door opening.

I looked up at a sour-faced near-albino and his two apish thugs. The albino was smirking at Harry with such an arrogant look that I automatically didn't like him.

"What?" Harry asked aggressively.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," the albino drawled. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

I rolled my eyes and gave a bored scoff. "Oh please, you're not _that_ important, albino shit. Do the world a favor and shove your head back up your ass so we don't have to look at you anymore."

Everyone in the compartment except Luna howled with laughter; Luna just stared at me like she couldn't believe what had come out of my mouth.

"And what exactly would you know about my arse?" the albino, who I assumed was the mysterious "Malfoy", sneered.

"I know it's just like you," I said with a lazy smirk just like his. "Skinny, dead-ass pale, and so ugly it hurts to look at it."

Now I had Ron laughing as hard as Luna had been a while ago. He was laughing so hard that he was slapping his legs, which had Hermione and Ginny laughing at him. Harry and Luna were staring at me in amazement.

The albino's face was finally showing some color as he glared at me; I guess I'd really pissed him off. Still wearing that lazy smirk, I stood up and walked over to him. I gently placed my hand on his chest and leaned forward flirtatiously.

"Hmm," I said, looking closely at him as if inspecting him. "I thought you'd be hotter up close. Guess not," I said, giving him a small shove that sent him out of the doorway. As I slowly closed the compartment door in his face, I gave him my best flirtatious smirk and a finger-wave. Just to make sure he didn't try anything, I locked the door behind him.

I was surprised by the cheers that erupted behind me. I turned on my heel and stared at everyone with a shocked smile on my face.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Ron crowed. "Where'd you learn that?!"

"You can't survive on the streets of Manhattan without knowing how to trash talk," I laughed.

"Manhattan?" Hermione asked. "Like New York?"

I grinned proudly. "Yep! Reggie Dolan of Manhattan's Upper West Side, at your service," I said, adding a showy bow. "Who was that delightful little rodent?" I asked, pointing at the door.

"That," Hermione said, "was Draco Malfoy. He's the biggest … cockroach in the entire school, and unfortunately he's the smartest of the whole bunch, so he's their leader."

I rolled my eyes and strutted back to my seat. "Fun," I said while still grinning. "So, looks like I've made my first enemy!"

"How're you grinning about that?" Harry asked.

"I'll get more adventures if I have enemies!" I chuckled. "I mean, yeah, he'll be a pain in the ass for sure, but at least I'll never be bored with him around. I can't _stand_ being bored!"

"You're insane," Ginny said, laughing as she shook her head. We all laughed with her until we heard something smacking the window. I turned to see a small owl bouncing against the window with a letter clasped in its beak. I quickly stood up and opened the window, holding the owl to me as it flew at me. After closing the window, I sat back down and let the owl go.

To my surprise, the owl stood proudly on my lap and thrust its chest in my direction, indicating the letter was for me. And lo and behold, I saw my full name – Regina Galadriel Dolan – written on the envelope. I smiled and took the letter from the owl, stroking its little head to thank it. It trilled a little song at me, making me laugh a little. I opened the letter and read it while stroking the owl's feathers.

Dear Miss Dolan,

When the Hogwarts Express stops, you must find Professor Grubbly-Plank. She will be escorting the first year students up to the castle for the Sorting Ceremony. As you are a new student, you will need to be Sorted with the first years. I hope this is to your convenience.

Yours sincerely,

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

P.S. – I have been made aware that you do not have an owl of your own. If it is permissible to you, I would like to bestow upon you the very owl that has delivered this letter to you. He is a Northern Saw-Whet Owl. He does not have a name as of yet; I thought perhaps you might like that honour. – A.P.W.B.D.

"Whoa!" I gasped.

"What is it?"

I looked over at Luna, who had been watching me read the letter.

I smiled down at the little owl and tickled the feathers between his shoulders.

"This little guy's mine!" I said excitedly. "Dumbledore just … gave him to me!"

"That was nice of him," she said. "What's his name?"

I looked down at the owl and smiled at how he was strutting around and carrying himself like a little king.

'Hmm,' I thought, getting an idea for a name. 'Little king …'

"Regulus," I said. "Means 'little king.' Kinda fits him, doncha think?"

Luna gave me a serene smile.

"Indeed it does," she said. "I like it."


	3. The Sorting Ceremony

Hey everyone! Holy moly, it's so amazing how many people are following and favoriting my stories! I'm so touched - thank you so much! Don't be afraid to write a review - tell me what you like and what you don't and any ideas you might have for the story! Thanks again, and happy reading!

- Owlix

**Chapter Three:****The Sorting Ceremony**

"We'd better get changed," Hermione said after a while. "Ginny, Reggie, Luna, would you join me?"

"Sure," I said. "Harry, would you mind looking after Regulus for me?"

"No problem," he said, gently taking Regulus in his hand and stroking the tiny owl's feathers. I smiled as I stood up to grab my uniform; if there was one thing I liked in a guy, it was the strength to be gentle.

All three of us girls stood up and, after grabbing our uniforms, followed Hermione to the bathroom, which was already overrun with girls. Once we finally got our turn, the four of us dived into the closest available stalls and hurried into our clothes due to the cold.

"Damn!" I swore as I started taking off my sweater. "This dump's colder than Santa's outhouse right now!"

"Welcome to Scotland," Luna said dreamily, making me laugh.

"Why thank you, Luna darling!" I said. "I feel so much warmer now!"

All three of us laughed as we came out, dressed in our uniform. Well, the other three were in a uniform. They froze and stared when they saw that I was in my own version of the uniform. I still wore the black robe, white button-down shirt, black tie, and black pleated skirt, but the similarities ended there. My skirt was mid-thigh-length rather than knee-length; I wore a black modern waist-coat instead of a gray blazer, cardigan, or sweater; I wore black leggings instead of black tights; and I wore my black, taller-than-knee-high, high-heeled boots instead of those ugly black loafers everyone was wearing. Once I added a black fingerless glove to my right hand, a silver and black skull ring on my left middle finger, and a simple touch-up of eyeliner, mascara, eye-shadow, and buff-colored lipstick, I was all ready to go. I knew I was attracting strange looks because my uniform wasn't … well, uniform, but I didn't really care.

"You look very nice," Luna said, surprising me a little. "That look has a lot of attitude and strength, just like you."

I gave Luna a wolfish grin.

"Thanks, Luna!" I said. "By the way, I like your jewelry. Did you make them yourself?"

Luna looked surprised that I'd repaid her compliment and proud of her jewelry.

"Yes, I did," she said, smiling a special smile as we walked back to our compartment. Harry, Ron, and Neville all gave me a long look but didn't say anything about my look. A minute later, the train started slowing down and everyone else started getting their luggage ready. I had to wait for Harry to get his Snowy Owl out of the way before I could get my hiking backpack and school trunk. I had Regulus perched on top of my head, which was probably the safest spot for him at the moment. I started taking my luggage off the train with me, but Harry stopped me and told me that the luggage will be taken up to the school separately.

When we got out to the platform, I remembered Dumbledore's letter.

"Who's Professor Grubbly-Plank?" I asked Harry, who looked very surprised at my question.

"Left field, I know," I said wearily. "Dumbledore said to follow her and the first years to the castle."

Before Harry could speak, I heard a brisk female voice calling out, "First years line up over here, please! All first years to me!"

"That's her," Harry said, pointing at a grey-haired woman who was swinging a lantern and waving her free arm to get people's attention.

"Thanks," I said, giving Harry a smile. "Maybe we'll be in the same House. Which one are you in?"

"Gryffindor," Harry said proudly. "You'll be a Gryffindor too, or I'll eat Hedwig," he said confidently, nodding down at the beautiful Snowy Owl in his arms.

"Oh good heavens!" I cried jokingly. "Well, I'd better make sure I get in Gryffindor. Don't want the death of that beautiful owl on my conscience."

When Harry smiled and chuckled at my tone, I felt my stomach give a little swoop, surprising me a little. I had to force myself to not giggle; I especially hated it when girls giggled. Blushing slightly at how awkward the atmosphere suddenly got, I smiled and said my goodbyes, handing Regulus to Harry for safe-keeping, before hurrying over to Professor Grubbly-Plank. I went into my robe pocket and dug out Dumbledore's letter, just in case.

"Are you Professor Grubbly-Plank?" I asked.

"Yes," she said briskly. "And you are?"

"Reggie Dolan," I said with a smile. "I'm a new student at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore told me to find you when I got here."

"Well, you've found me," she said. "Line up with the other first years, please."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, standing in the back of the line.

Once all the first years had shown up, we headed off toward the lake, where hundreds of small rowboats were waiting for us.

"Four people to a boat!" Professor Grubbly-Plank said. "Come on, quickly now!"

I immediately hurried to a boat and held it steady as three terrified-looking girls clambered into it. When I climbed in myself, I looked down for the oars.

"Uh … where are the oars?" I called to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"You won't need them," she said. "They'll go when the fleet is full."

I blinked and said, "OK?" before sitting down awkwardly in the back of the boat.

When everyone was ready, true to Professor Grubbly-Plank's word, the boats pushed themselves into the water and propelled themselves across the lake. I looked around at what I could see of the scenery, but I couldn't see much because of the shadows.

"Coming up on Hogwarts Castle!" Professor Grubbly-Plank called back. "You'll see it just ahead after the next turn."

I looked up in awe as the boats came around a turn … and the most spectacular castle I'd ever seen came into view. Every window was glowing with firelight, making the dark stone glow like an earthy jack-o-lantern. Even though I was four years older than these little kids, I was easily as awestruck as they were by the sight. It was – dare I say it? – magical!

We were left in a small room while Professor Grubbly-Plank went to go find someone. I sat on the windowsill, trying to ignore the first years' stares.

"Aren't you a bit old to be a first year?" one kid asked.

I smiled over at him and said, "Why yes. Yes I am." Yes, I just quoted "Phineas and Ferb", and those of you who haven't seen that epic TV show have wasted your childhood.

After maybe five minutes of waiting, the door opened and revealed a tall, dark-haired, severe-looking woman in elegant emerald-green robes.

"Follow me, please," she said crisply before spinning on her heel and marching away. We all hurried after her, immediately realizing that this woman was one to obey.

We stopped at the top of a marvelous stone staircase, where the woman was waiting for us.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said firmly. "I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you can take your seats, you must be Sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are here, your House will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points; any rule-breaking and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points wins the House Cup. Wait here for a moment. I will be back shortly."

I leaned against the banister and watched the kids as they discussed the Sorting ceremony. They all seemed insanely nervous about what they would have to do; some kids wondered if they would have to do a spell, while others said they'd have to wrestle a troll or have a race on broomsticks. I shook my head and smiled; I'd had the same weird imagination when I was their age.

Finally, Professor McGonagall came back carrying a three-legged stool and a very old and frayed wizard's hat.

"We're ready for you," she said.

We got into a line and made our way into the dining hall. I looked around at the students, seeing four long tables full of them. When I saw Luna, I returned her serene smile and winked at her. Turning, I saw Ron waving wildly at me, Harry and Hermione grinning at the both of us. I gave them a British-style salute before seeing Harry point upwards. I looked up and almost tripped over my own feet as I gaped in shock.

There wasn't a damn ceiling!

All I saw were thousands of lit candles illuminating the cloudy night sky!

I turned back to Harry to see him giving me a grin. I felt that weird stomach swoop again and turned away after smiling back at him.

Professor McGonagall had us line up in front of the teachers and face the crowd. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself after my shock at the apparent lack of a ceiling and the unsettling yet exhilarating swooping in my stomach when Harry smiled at me. I looked down at a boy next to me, who was visibly trembling. Feeling a bit sorry for the poor kid, I gently placed a hand on his head.

"It's OK," I whispered at him when he looked up at me. "We'll just put the hat on and it'll tell us where to go, kay?" Mom had told me about Hogwarts's Sorting ceremony, but how she knew, I had no idea.

The boy gave me a nervous smile and a nod before turning back to look at the hat, which had been placed on the stool in front of us. I then noticed that the school seemed anxious as they looked at the hat, like they were waiting for it to do something. I was surprised when the damn thing actually began to sing!

_In times of old when I was new_

_And Hogwarts barely started_

_The founders of our noble school_

_Thought never to be parted:_

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning,_

_To make the world's best magic school_

_And pass along their learning._

_"__Together we will build and teach!"_

_The four good friends decided_

_And never did they dream that they_

_Might someday be divided,_

_For were there such friends anywhere_

_As Slytherin and Gryffindor?_

_Unless it was the second pair_

_Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_

_How could such friendships fail?_

_Why, I was there and so can tell._

_Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those  
Whose ancestry's purest."  
Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose  
Intelligence is surest."_

_Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those  
With brave deeds to their name."  
Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot  
And treat them just the same."_

_These differences caused little strife  
When first they came to light.  
For each of the four founders had  
A house in which they might  
Take only those they wanted, so,  
For instance, Slytherin  
Took only pure-blood wizards  
Of great cunning just like him.  
And only those of sharpest mind  
Were taught by Ravenclaw  
While the bravest and the boldest  
Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest  
and taught them all she knew,  
Thus, the houses and their founders  
Maintained friendships firm and true.  
So Hogwarts worked in harmony  
for several happy years,  
but then discord crept among us  
feeding on our faults and fears.  
The Houses that, like pillars four  
had once held up our school  
now turned upon each other and  
divided, sought to rule.  
And for a while it seemed the school  
must meet an early end.  
what with dueling and with fighting  
and the clash of friend on friend.  
And at last there came a morning  
when old Slytherin departed  
and though the fighting then died out  
he left us quite downhearted.  
And never since the founders four  
were whittled down to three  
have the Houses been united  
as they once were meant to be.  
And now the Sorting Hat is here  
and you all know the score:  
I sort you into Houses  
because that is what I'm for.  
But this year I'll go further,  
listen closely to my song:  
though condemned I am to split you  
still I worry that it's wrong,  
Though I must fulfill my duty  
and must quarter every year  
still I wonder whether sorting  
may not bring the end I fear.  
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,  
the warning history shows,  
for our Hogwarts is in danger  
from external, deadly foes  
And we must unite inside her  
or we'll crumble from within  
I have told you, I have warned you...  
let the Sorting now begin._

When the crowd began applauding, I wondered at the song. It seemed to be warning against infighting and external foes; basically "Together, we stand; divided, we fall." Mom had warned me about Voldemort and how he'd returned and about the sense of denial the general public had. If this song wasn't a wake-up call, I didn't know what was.

I was taken out of my little daydream by Professor McGonagall, who was calling out names of first years to be Sorted.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

The trembling boy next to me stumbled over to the stool and jammed the hat on his head; if it wasn't for his large ears, it would have gone down to his shoulders.

"Oh, poor kid," I muttered sympathetically.

"_GRYFFINDOR!_" the hat shouted. Harry's House clapped loudly as shy Euan hurried down to their table and sat down, looking as if he wished to disappear from view right then and there.

The Sorting took a very long time; some students were Sorted right away, while some took upwards of an entire minute to be Sorted. Finally, the last of the first years were in their seats and I was left alone in front of the teachers.

I turned when I heard someone standing up behind me. I saw a tall, thin, and very _old_ man with a long white beard and sparkling light blue eyes that looked eons younger than the rest of him. He lifted his long, tapered hands and began to speak.

"Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he cried jovially. I started getting more than a little indignant, thinking that he'd forgotten all about me, even though I was standing right in front of him. What he said next alleviated all my fears.

"This year, we have a very special treat!" he said in a musical accent that sounded kind of similar to Luna's. "We have a transfer student, coming all the way from New York City in America to bless our halls. Please join me in giving a warm Hogwarts welcome to Miss Regina Dolan!"

The entire hall erupted into cheers and applause, teachers and students alike. Despite how much I loved being in the spotlight, this genuine welcome overwhelmed me a little. I managed to give them a slightly awkward curtsy before heading to the stool to be Sorted. The hat was a little big on my head, but I could see under the brim. I peered over at Harry and gave him a slightly embarrassed smile before jumping at the sound of a voice in my head. I recognized it as the hat's voice.

'_Oh my, my, my.__What a strong young lady!__Determined, confident, fierce, protective, intelligent, kind-hearted … and so vulnerable …'_

_'__Say what?'_ I thought. '_I'm anything __**but**__vulnerable!'_

'_On the outside, indeed,_' the hat replied. '_But deep inside you, I can sense that shy, insecure part of you that aches to be acknowledged.__I suppose you can say that is the real you, and the strength you portray is a mere cover.'_

_'__Like hell, it is!__I don't need you to tell me who I am because I already know, dammit!__Look, just shut up about me and put me in Gryffindor already.__Harry said he'd eat his owl if I didn't.'_

I was surprised to hear the hat laughing – _out loud_. It sounded like Ron when he'd laughed at the insults I'd given Malfoy on the train. It barely managed to gasp the word "Gryffindor" between gales of laughter, causing a round of applause from the Gryffindor table. As Professor McGonagall gingerly removed the guffawing hat from my head, it howled something about it not hearing such nerve from a student for an entire generation.

"Excuse me," I said, feeling a weird urge to get more details. I took the hat from Professor McGonagall and jammed it back on to my head.

'_Who?_' I asked, knowing the hat would know what I was asking.

_'__Sirius Black!__Fairly demanded to be put with a friend of his!__Refused to go anywhere else!__Oh, what nerve!__So refreshing to this moldy old cap!'_

Blinking in surprise, I took the still-hooting hat off and handed it to Professor McGonagall with an apologetic smile. I then hurried off to Harry and the others, who had saved a seat for me across from Harry.

"What the bloody hell'd you do?" Ron asked, still staring at the hat.

"Told it Harry would eat his owl if I didn't get put in Gryffindor," I said with a confident shrug. That made the trio laugh, distracting them from how shaken I actually was. I'd never been figured out so quickly before; no one had dared to assume I was anything but the confident, strong, and slightly arrogant virago I was. For someone to see the part of me that I'd hidden deep in the dark of my mind so quickly and decisively was very unnerving.

'Dammit, Mom!' I thought. 'You never told me that damn hat would get inside my head!'


	4. I Did It Brilliantly

Hey again! In thanks for your support, I'm posting two chapters of this story today! Hope you enjoy it! BTW, if you need someone to imagine as Reggie, try picturing Cher Lloyd!

**Chapter Four:****I Did It Brilliantly**

Before the food came, the old man stood up and spoke again.

"To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

I was surprised into laughter, quickly relaxing at the thought of a good warm dinner. I piled my plate high with mashed potatoes and gravy, mixed veggies slathered in melted butter, and fried chicken. I charmed the goblet in front of me to make it fill with Pepsi Max, my favorite soda.

"Ah," I sighed, looking at my plate. "Paradise …"

I blocked out Harry and Ron's conversation with a ruff-wearing ghost and just dug in to my amazing meal. When dessert came up, I had myself a thick slice of chocolate cake and a goblet full of milk. The food was absolutely fantastic! It hit exactly the right buttons, making me feel more at home with every bite.

"Good?" Harry asked, smirking in amusement at me. I nodded ecstatically, my mouth too full of food to speak properly. I felt that weird swooping feeling when Harry laughed at my response. I felt my cheeks warm up again and suddenly felt very self-conscious about the fact that I wasn't eating like a lady, had my elbows on the table, and probably had food all over my face.

Dammit, what the hell was the matter with me?!

I'm Reggie Dolan, for Merlin's sake! Reggie Dolan doesn't get self-conscious, especially around boys!

Besides, Harry wasn't my type! I looked more for the bad-boy biker type, not the quiet, insecure, brooding, helpful, sweet, funny, cute …

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

I gave my head a firm shake to get rid of those fluffy thoughts and focused almost obsessively on my cake. I looked over at Hermione when she nudged me and turned my gaze back to my cake when I saw her give me a knowing look. I'd be getting interrogated later, I just knew it.

When my food was gone, I noticed that the old man, who Hermione had told me was Dumbledore, had stood up again. Everyone shut up as they waited for him to speak.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students – and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." I noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione smirking at each other and assumed that they'd been in there multiple times before.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons while Professor Hagrid is on leave; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

While the room applauded politely, Harry leaned across the table to murmur, "That Umbridge woman, she works for the Ministry. Directly under Fudge, the Minister for Magic."

I raised an eyebrow in disapproval but didn't say anything because Dumbledore was still talking.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the –"

He broke off at the sound of a polite cough. Everyone turned and saw a squat, round, distinctly toad-like woman stand at her place at the table. She was dressed in a fluffy ensemble of sweater, pencil-skirt, hat, and pumps, all in various nasty shades of pale pink. She slowly walked around the table, towards Professor Dumbledore. It was clear to me that she wanted to say something and didn't care that she was being rude.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she simpered, "for those kind words of welcome. And how lovely to see your bright, happy faces smiling up at me!"

Harry and I glanced around. No one looked bright or happy, and no one was smiling. I wasn't surprised, though. Who would smile when some lady talks to them as if they were in kindergarten?

"I'm sure we're all going to be very good friends!" she continued.

"That's likely," I heard two boys mutter from down the table. I smirked, glad to hear that some people still had their brains.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. Although each headmaster has brought something new to this historic school," she gave a polite nod at Dumbledore, who nodded back, "progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected, and prune practices that ought to be … _prohibited!_" She whispered the last word conspiratorially and gave a bright smile and girlish giggle. Dumbledore led a barely polite round of applause, which I refused to join.

"What a load of waffle," Ron muttered.

"That's certainly one way to put it," I said, darkly glaring up at that hateful, pink, fluffy toad.

"You heard all that, too?" Hermione asked me, matching my dark look with a fierce one of her own.

I nodded and said, "You mean the part where the Ministry's taking control of the school? Yeah, I heard that pile of bullshit."

Hermione jumped slightly at my language but gave me a grim smile after a moment, seeming to agree with my description of it.

Just then, there was the sound of clattering and banging; apparently, the student body had been dismissed. Hermione leapt to her feet, looking flustered.

"Ron, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!" she said.

"Oh yeah," Ron said, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey – hey you lot! Midgets!"

I burst into gales of laughter. Seriously, Ron was hilarious!

"_Ron!_" Hermione gasped.

"Well, they are, they're titchy …"

"Only because you're a damn bean pole, you idiot!" I called, still laughing.

I even got Hermione to laugh with that one. She called the first years over, still slightly giggly. I saw my little buddy Euan coming up and gave him a smile and wave. He smiled back at me, but then a blond boy next to him got a scared look on his face. He whispered something into Euan's ear, causing Euan to look very frightened as he looked over at Harry.

Frowning, I marched over to the boy and planted my hand on his head, gripping his hair tightly as I made him look at me.

"You got a problem with my friend Harry?" I growled.

"H-H-He's c-c-crazy!" the boy stammered. "H-He said he saw … Y-Y-Y-You-Know-Who!"

"No, I don't know who!" I barked. "And I don't _care_ who! Harry's _my _friend, and you will _not_ call him crazy or I'll show you just how crazy _I _am! Do I make myself clear, maggot?!"

"Y-Yes, ma'am!" the boy screeched, scampering after the rest of the first years as soon as I let him go.

I turned to watch him run away and came face-to-face with a shocked Gryffindor House. Harry was at the very front of the crowd, looking both stunned and grateful.

"What?" I asked, getting all blustery with all this surprise attention. "Can't a girl defend her friend?" I walked up to Harry and slipped my arm through his.

"So, where's our roost?" I asked.

"Uh … this way," Harry said, escorting me through the hallways like a proper English gentleman. I knew we were attracting a lot of attention, but I didn't know if it was me or Harry getting more of it. We went up some stairs and down some different hallways, Harry showing me different shortcuts along the way, until we came to a life-size portrait of a large lady in a fancy pink dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Uh …" Harry muttered, realizing he had no idea.

"No password, no entrance," the lady said disdainfully.

"Harry, I know it!" Harry and I turned at the sound of the excited voice and saw Neville jogging toward us. "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once!" He waved the stunted cactus he held in his arms. "_Mimbulus mimbletonia!_"

"Correct," the lady said and her portrait swung open like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind her.

"Impressive security system," I said with a grin as Harry and Neville let me climb through the hole first. Like I said, proper English gentlemen.

The cozy, circular room I came to was full of people who had flopped in squashy armchairs and couches. The fireplace was full of a warm, crackling flame that made me think of camping. Everyone was chattering away, but as soon as they realized Harry and I were in the room, the chattering faded to whispers and then turned to nothing. I looked around and saw that everyone was staring at Harry. As we passed one kid, I looked over his shoulder at the newspaper he was holding. The headline said, "Potter or Plotter?" and had a huge picture of Harry on it.

Before I could mention it, Harry spoke to the two boys.

"Dean. Seamus. Good holiday?" he asked politely.

"Alright," the black boy said. "Better than Seamus's anyway."

The boy with the newspaper, Seamus, set the paper down and stood up, his shoulders and fists tense.

"Me mam didn't want me to come back this year," he said loudly, his Irish accent very thick. It seemed to me that he was aching to pick a fight.

"Why not?" Harry said, shifting so that I was more fully behind him.

"Let me see, eh … because of you," Seamus said, glaring at Harry. "The _Daily Prophet_'s been saying a lot of stuff about you, Harry, and about Dumbledore as well."

"Well, your mum believes them?" Harry asked angrily.

"Well, no one was there the night Cedric died," Seamus said.

"Then I guess you should read the _Prophet_, then," Harry said bitterly, "like your stupid mother. It'll tell you everything you need to know."

"Don't you dare talk about my mother like that!" Seamus cried.

"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar!" Harry said loudly.

"And you're asking for it!" I called from behind Harry, causing everyone to look at me. I firmly stepped forward to glare the angry Irishman right in the eye. "You're the one who chose to pick a fight in public, so you're just gonna have to deal with the gloves coming off. You got a problem with that, _Mick_?"

The atmosphere immediately tensed. Seamus glared ferociously at me, breathing hard through his nose as he tried to contain his rage.

"Let me ask you guys something," I said, deliberately turning my back on Seamus. "Before all this shit with _Lord Voldemort_ started, who did you think would have been the last person in the entire world to lie about him?" I waited for a moment, glaring straight into the eyes of the crowd, who were shocked that I'd said his name.

"Harry," I heard Ron say as he came forward. "Harry's the last person who would lie about You-Know-Who. He always has been."

"Exactly," I said, giving Ron a smile. "So, if he wouldn't have lied before, what makes you think he would be lying now?" Again, the glare into the crowd; this time, many people looked away in guilt.

I scoffed and said, "I thought Gryffindor was the brave House, the House where people stood up for what was right instead of hiding behind their mommy's skirts because she says there's no such thing as _You-Know-Who_." I made sure to look straight at Seamus when I made the "mommy's skirts" comment and say "You-Know-Who" in the most nauseating, simpering tone I could muster.

"If Harry says Voldemort's back, then he's back," I snarled. "If you can't accept that, Gryffindor's nothing but a bunch of cowards!"

To my surprise, Seamus rushed me, his fists balled tightly in front of him. I met him with a left cross to the eye, making him stagger back and cover his face.

"You wanna go?" I roared, clenching my fists. "You wanna rumble, Mickey? Well, bring it! Come on!"

Ron took a step forward, but he glanced behind me at Harry and paused. I figured Harry was either all for letting me beat the shit out of Seamus or worried about me going nuts on Ron for trying to stop me.

Either way, it was a good call.

Seamus glared at me and then looked around at everyone else before reluctantly backing off.

"No way am I gonna fight a tart," he snapped.

I threw back my head and roared with laughter, surprising everyone. I guess they thought I'd hit Seamus for that.

"So much for the Fighting Irish!" I sneered. "I thought you guys loved getting into fist fights! If you're afraid you'll hurt me, don't be. I'll kick your ass before you can even touch me!"

Seamus just shook his head and went back to his newspaper. I glared at him for a moment before marching over, ripping the paper out of his hands, and tossing it in the fire. I gave him a look like, "What are you gonna do about it?"

Before he could reply, Hermione came up to me and slipped her arm through mine, grinning a mile wide.

"There you are, Reggie!" she chirped. "I've been looking for you! C'mon, let me show you our dormitory!" Without waiting for an answer, she dragged me up the stairs. I shot a confused glance at Ron and Harry, who were grinning at me. I felt the weird stomach-swoop again just before Hermione dragged me out of sight.

"You've made enemies out of the rest of Gryffindor House, you know," Hermione said, grinning over at me.

"True," I grinned back, "but I did it brilliantly."


	5. A New Year

OH MY GOSH! I GOT REVIEWS! To JannaKalderash, Kperry1234, and Oden1234, thank you, thank you, thank you so much! I actually feel like a real author, now that I have total strangers telling me they actually like my writing! As a sign of my appreciation, I will give you an entirely new and rather long chapter full of more awesome Reggie-ness! Enjoy!

-Owlix

**Chapter Five: ****A New Year**

After Hermione dragged me to our dormitory, which was thankfully empty, she helped me figure out which bed was mine. Turns out Harry had been right about the luggage; someone or something had carried it up here and deposited it all next to each student's bed. Hermione and I were ecstatic to find that our beds were next to each other.

I flopped down on my bed and harrumphed at the canopy over my head.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, seeming to almost demand an answer rather than just ask for it.

"Hmm … I'm not sure," I said, shrugging a little. "Maybe I just need to sleep it off."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, now seeming a bit worried. "You know, keeping stuff in isn't that healthy. If you have something to say, you can trust me."

I sat up and turned to smile at her reassuringly.

"I know that," I chuckled. "It's just … I don't really know how to say it, or even _what _to say for that matter."

Hermione looked at me for a moment before sighing and lying down on her bed.

"Sorry if I'm nagging," she said tiredly. "I just … Harry's been holding too much in, and he's starting to bite our heads off because of it. I don't want you to start doing the same thing."

I chuckled again. "No worries about that. If I have a problem, I'll say something. BFF's honor."

Hermione lifted her head and stared at me in shock.

"BFF?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," I shrugged. "Y'know, Best Friends Forever?"

Hermione's reaction greatly surprised me. Her narrow brown eyes widened and sparkled like she was about to cry. I noticed a slight trembling in her bottom lip, but that quickly disappeared before she came over to wrap her arms around me.

"Her-Hermione?!" I gasped in surprise.

"S-Sorry," she sniffled, going back to sit on her bed as she wiped her eyes. "It's just … I've never had a girl friend before. All the other girls here are just so … shallow and I can't be real friends with them. I've always been friends with boys, and they're often intimidated by me so even that's awkward sometimes.

"I guess I just … want someone my age to talk to about … well, girl stuff. I can't talk about that with Harry or Ron, and I don't trust any of the other girls enough to tell them."

I blinked at Hermione, surprised that someone so confident could be so lonely. It was kinda familiar …

"I know how you feel," I said quietly, making Hermione look up at me. "I've always intimidated people; it's how I keep myself safe. Yeah, a lot of people know who I am, but I've never let people close enough to really _know_ me, y'know? There are just too many … bad things in my life for me to want people to get close."

"So … why us?" Hermione asked.

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Something about you guys makes me feel like I can trust you. I mean, I've never laughed as hard as I have at Ron's jokes. _Never!_ Luna, she's just so sweet and so … _Luna_, y'know? And Ginny's so fiery and so … strong. And you … you're almost like the sister I've never had; you get why I'm so scary and you know Tolkien! I mean, come on; how can we not be friends?!"

"What about Harry?" Hermione smirked.

I couldn't help looking away slightly as my face burned.

"He's … I dunno, he's … he makes me feel … good, somehow. He's helpful, he's sweet, he's _gentle_, and he's got the _greatest smile _…"

"I knew it!" Hermione crowed excitedly. "I saw you get flustered at dinner. You fancy Harry, don't you?!"

"N-No!" I cried defensively. "I mean, I like him, but I don't '_like him_' like him."

"Not yet," Hermione smirked again, getting a very devious look in her eye. I couldn't help feeling anxious and a little excited at the thought of Hermione playing matchmaker.

"W-We'll see," I said, trying to muster up another confident smirk. I chuckled when a thought came to me. "Maybe I can help you and Ron."

I burst into laughter when Hermione turned bright pink and began to bluster at me. After a while, though, Hermione calmed down and began to laugh along with me.

Our laughter was cut short when four more girls came into the room. Two of them were very giggly, while the other two kinda faded into the background a bit.

When one of the giggly girls saw me, she immediately started laughing and gave me what she probably thought was a death glare before hurrying to put her PJs on. I couldn't help chuckling at how pathetic her anger was. I mean, seriously; her "death glare" couldn't even scare a mouse!

"I suppose you think you're SO clever!" she sneered at me.

"Nah, that's 'Mione's job," I said nonchalantly, making Hermione chuckle.

"And what's your job?!" she asked, starting to get a bit screechy. "Spreading Potter's crazy around?!"

Next thing I knew, I was on my feet, fists clenched and death glare fixed on her. She immediately began to squirm and try to back away, but I refused to let her get away with this.

"My job," I hissed, "is to support my _friend_, Harry Potter! And your job is to shut your big, fat mouth and WAKE THE HELL _UP!_ Voldemort is back, whether you like it or not! Like it, love it, learn to deal with it!"

I spun around and marched back to my bed, drawing the curtains around the bed to end the conversation. I heard the other girls whispering, but I was too riled up to care. I whipped out my iPod and started listening to the awesome music of Michael Jackson. Hermione poked her head in about twenty minutes later to tell me that the coast was clear. I hurried to the bathroom to wash my face and get in my PJs (gray sweatpants and a blue zip-up hoodie) before hurrying back to the dorms.

All of the other girls, except Hermione, were already in bed and trying to go to sleep. Hermione was half-way through a monster-sized book that looked to be one of our textbooks for this year. Before I got into bed, I cast protective enchantments on my trunk, wardrobe, and bed to make sure no one tried to murder me in my sleep. I glanced over at Hermione, who seemed a bit shocked as she looked up from her book.

"What?" I asked, shrugging a little. "I don't want Giggle One and Giggle Two getting any ideas."

"Anyone else on that list?" Hermione asked, her dark eyes seeming to see more than I was showing.

I blinked and sat down on my bed before looking up at her and saying, "No one on this continent. So far, anyway."

"People back in New York?" Hermione asked.

I swallowed slightly and nodded.

"And a couple girls at Salem Witches Institute," I said. "If you think the Giggles are bad … well, they ain't got nothin' on the Bishop Sisters."

"Girly?" Hermione asked, already flinching a little.

I gave her a dead-pan look and said, "Fake boobs, fake blond hair, fake-bake tan, fake nails, fake smiles … everything about them is fake. I call them Barbie Bishops, behind their back and to their face."

Hermione chuckled a little before reaching over to gently squeeze my shoulder.

"Get some sleep," she said kindly. "I'm sure the jet lag is going to be torture."

"Thanks, 'Mione," I said, falling back onto my bed. After taking a deep breath, I wrapped myself in the thick red-and-gold quilt draped over the bed, falling asleep in what seemed like a mere moment.

My dreams were very weird that night. I could see a much younger version of my mom talking to a young man with dark hair and stoic, aristocratic features. They seemed to be arguing about something, but I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. The scene faded to show a tall, dark-haired man standing over me with a darkly furious look on his face.

_"__You think you can get away from me, freak?!" he snarled, raising a leather-wrapped fist._

_"__No!" I couldn't help crying out.__ "__No, please –"_

_I let out a slight yelp as he brought his fist down, the buckle of the belt wrapped around his hand landing hard on my shoulder. __I went down hard, but I quickly forced myself to stand and run as hard as I could._

_"__You'll never get away from me, you bastard freak!" I heard him roar. __I could hear his heavy boots making loud thumps as he raced after me.__ "__No escape! __No freedom! __No sanctuary! __No matter where you are, I'll find you! __I'll beat your head in, I'll rip the skin off your bones, I'll tear you apart! __You'll never be safe, you hear me!"_

_His shouts grew louder and louder as I ran harder and faster, trying to escape him with everything I had in me. __He began to throw rocks at me in an attempt to trip me up. __He succeeded a couple times, but I managed to stand back up and keep going before he could get to me._

_Finally, I was staring at the edge of a cliff. __I couldn't make myself stop, so I ended up hanging from the precipice by my fingertips. __He came up then and began to slowly crush my fingers under his steel-toed boot._

_"__You'll never belong," he growled as he sneered at me. __ "__You'll never be worth it, never be needed, never be wanted. __You'll die young, a virgin, alone, and more worthless than you were the day you were born."_

_He punctuated that phrase with one final stomp on my fingers, forcing me to let go._

_Normally, this was where I'd wake up, just as I started to feel like I was falling. __But this time, I kept falling and falling and falling … until I was caught by a strong arm and held to a leanly muscular chest._

_"__You're safe with me," I heard a familiar voice say.__ "__I've got you ... __I won't let you fall."_

_I started to look up to see who it was, but just before the mouth came into view …_

"Reggie, wake up! Class is in thirty minutes!"

"Whazzit, whazzy, wha!" I cried blearily as Hermione's urgent voice woke me up. I noticed Hermione was trying so hard not to laugh, so I knew she'd woken me up without really needing to.

"Why do you hate me?" I groaned as I fell face-first into my pillow.

"Sorry, couldn't resist!" she giggled. "Class starts on the first Monday of the term. Five days from now."

I couldn't resist. I picked up my pillow and chucked it at her before going face-first into the mattress. Judging by the yelp and slight thud, I'd hit my mark.

"Go the hell away and let me sleep, woman!" I growled. "I need my beauty sleep!"

"Trust me, you don't need beauty sleep," Hermione said, yanking my blankets off. "What you need is to get over the jet lag, and the best way to do that is to set a clear daily schedule. You'll wake up now, go through your day, and go to bed at nine or ten tonight. Come on, up and at 'em!"

"Go away!" I whined, desperate for more sleep.

I heard her sigh and walk away. Convinced I'd won, I grabbed my pillow and cuddled it, starting to fall asleep again. Next thing I knew, my entire head was soaked in icy-cold water. I grabbed my pillow and began waving it around, roaring like a bear freshly woken up from hibernation. I ended up standing on my bed in my PJs with my soaking pillow in my hand, glaring down at a devilishly smug Hermione, who had an empty tankard in her hands.

Grumbling every swear word I knew under my breath, I shoved past her and into the shower, only to yelp in shock when the water in there was just as cold as what had woken me up.

"You wake up late, you get a cold shower," Hermione sang from the bathroom door.

I ripped open the shower curtains and glared at her with everything I had in that moment.

"I REALLY hate you right now!" I snarled.

"I know," Hermione smirked as she waltzed out of the room, leaving me to take the quickest shower I'd ever had and get dressed in a similar version of the uniform I'd worn yesterday. I didn't add the gloves or the ring, but I did put on loads of leather bracelets and dark-colored makeup. I left my hair down to air-dry, too tired to think of a hairstyle for today, and blearily stomped down the stairs to the common room, where Hermione and the boys were waiting for me.

Harry surprised me with a steaming mug of something. I all but snatched it out of his hands and breathed in the wondrous smell of espresso. The first sip was heavenly, rich and almost caramelly as it slid down my throat.

"Good?" Harry asked.

"Hell yeah," I breathed. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, sitting down again. I sat down next to him as I saw the small breakfast arranged on the coffee table in front of us. There were some bagels, fruit, sausages, and bacon, all waiting for us to enjoy. Ron had already devoured all of the bacon and most of the sausages, but I quickly snagged a whole-wheat bagel, cream cheese, and some strawberries before anyone could touch them.

"What's the plan for today?" I asked.

"Showing you around Hogwarts," Harry said, grabbing a blueberry bagel and shredding it slightly as he ate bits and pieces of it. "Gotta give you the grand tour so you don't get lost your first day."

"Ruddy awful, it is!" Ron said through a mouthful of sausage. "Couldn't get to the Great Hall without help 'til Friday, our first year! Bloody miracle we didn't run into Peeves on the way!"

"Who's Peeves?" I asked as I sipped at my espresso.

"The castle's poltergeist," Hermione said as she helped herself to a handmade fruit salad. "He's absolutely awful if you're running late. His advice is worth two wrong turns and a locked door if you ask for it."

"The best ghost to ask is Nearly Headless Nick," Harry said. "He's the Gryffindor House ghost. You'll know him easy, he wears a ruff."

"OK," I said before starting on my fruity bagel. I'll admit, I savored that breakfast. It was the first in a long time I didn't have a certain someone glaring at me as if demanding what the hell I was doing eating his well-earned food.

"How'd you know I like coffee?" I asked Harry.

He just shrugged.

"Lucky guess," he said. "You're American, so I assumed you don't like tea."

I shook my head. "Too soft," I said. I lifted the nearly-empty coffee mug in a salute. "This is my very good friend, Messeur Coffee!"

"I hope you don't mind it's decaf," Hermione said. "The elves here don't like serving drinks with too much caffeine. They say it's not healthy for the students."

"Oh …" I said, glancing down at what was left of my coffee. I quickly slammed it back and set the mug down with a satisfied sigh. "That was _good_! We ready to go?"

They all smiled at me and stood up. As one, we all walked out of the common room and into the beginning of a very memorable year.


	6. Damn Straight!

Hey, everyone! I'm so sorry I didn't update yesterday, but the day got crazy and I had to go to work at the local movie theatre (one of my two jobs) and deal with Premiere Weekend Madness! Here is a new chapter with so much awesome Reggie-ness! Please read and review! Enjoy!

- Owlix

**Chapter Six: ****Challenge Accepted!**

Over the next few days, I slowly got used to waking up at seven in the morning and getting ready for the day. Harry, Ron, and Hermione showed me how to get to my various classes using as many short-cuts as possible. They also told me which corridors to avoid, who was best and worst when it came to directions, and how to organize my book-bag so I didn't end up a hunchback by the end of the day.

On Monday, I felt a bit more prepared to face the fireworks. I had my book-bag organized and filled with everything I'd need for the day until lunch. According to the schedule Professor McGonagall had provided me with, I had a double period of History of Magic first thing, a break around 10:30 am, and then a double period of Potions. After lunch, I had Ancient Runes with Hermione and a double period of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I wasn't looking forward to Defense due to that waddling pink hairball, but I knew I had to learn this stuff somehow.

After getting dressed, I headed down the stairs with Hermione, ignoring the Giggles' mousy "death glares" and smugly slamming the door in their faces. Hermione chuckled at my attitude before catching sight of Harry, who looked like he wanted to punch something REALLY hard.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked as we caught up with the boys. "You look really angry about something."

"Seamus still reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who," Ron said.

I felt my blood boil as I looked over at Harry, who just seemed to be getting angrier.

Hermione just sighed dejectedly.

"Yes, Lavender thinks so, too," she said tiredly.

"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" Harry nearly shouted.

"I have," I said, causing Harry to look at me with a look of betrayal on his face. I just smiled and continued. "She's been sitting on her prim little ass as I've yelled at her about what she thinks about you. I mean, I'm all for voicing opinions, but when that opinion is nothing more than defamation of character, people just need to put up or shut up. Unfortunately, Mickey and the Giggles are too stupid to understand that."

"You really shouldn't call Seamus that," Hermione said uncomfortably. "It's really not respectful –"

"If he wants respect," I snarled, "he'll have to earn it, starting with making up for not believing Harry! Until then, I'll call that little –" here, I used a word that nearly made Hermione faint, "– whatever I damn well please!"

"Bloody mental, you are," Ron said faintly, staring at me with wide eyes. I graced him with a feral grin that made him look as pale as a corpse.

"Damn straight!" I said before looking over at Harry. He seemed torn between gratitude and frustration. I just smiled at him and slipped my arm through his as I had on my first night here. His expression didn't change as we walked toward the Great Hall, but I felt his arm flex as he pulled me a little closer. My smile widened in a small rush of understanding; he _was_ grateful, but he didn't know how to express it and that was frustrating him.

When we got to the Great Hall, Harry expressed his worry about someone named Hagrid not being around, but before they could elaborate, a tall black girl with long cornrow braids marched up to us.

"Hi, Angelina," Harry said.

"Hi, good summer?" she asked briskly. Before Harry could answer, she announced that she'd been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and that tryouts for the Keeper position were on Friday and that the whole team needed to be there. Harry promised her that he'd be there and then helped me into a seat. I smiled at him in thanks and tried to swallow a chuckle when I saw him blush slightly.

After we'd eaten, Harry asked if the rumors about OWL year were true, that the work would be really tough.

"Oh yeah," Ron said definitively as we walked to History of Magic. "Bound to be, isn't it? OWLs are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year."

"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked us.

"Not really," Ron said sheepishly, "except … well …"

"What?" Harry urged.

"Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror," Ron said offhandedly, "but they're, like, the elite!"

"Yeah, they are," I said. I smiled a little at the idea of being an Auror, fighting back against the biggest, baddest bullies in the world. I could definitely see myself doing that for a living.

"You too, huh?" Harry asked with a slight smile.

I returned the smile and nodded. "I've always gotten a rush fighting back against bullies," I admitted. "Getting paid for that would definitely make it all worth it."

"All what?" Ron asked.

He didn't mean it to be nosy or anything, but I couldn't help but get defensive. I glared at him, prepared to chew his head off, but surprisingly, Hermione beat me to it!

"Ronald Weasley!" she yelped. "That is such a personal question, I don't even want to think about how rude you're being! If she wants to tell you about her past, which was no doubt painful, she'll tell you _herself_ without you pestering her! Is that clear?!"

"Y-Yeah, sure," he stammered. "Sorry," he said to me. I just rolled my eyes and clipped him across his ear before heading on my way.

History of Magic was, without a doubt, the most BORING class I'd ever been in! I'd been really excited for it beforehand, due to my favorable experiences with History at Salem's, but when the class is taught by a ghost who drones on endlessly and gets half the information wrong, it's no wonder almost everyone falls asleep or does something else in that class.

During break, we were sitting in a corner of the courtyard, trying to stay dry when the pretty Asian girl from the train showed up.

"Hello, Harry!" she said brightly.

"Hi," Harry said, his face almost matching his Gryffindor tie.

"You got that stuff off, then?" she said, obviously trying to be witty.

"Yeah," Harry said, trying to seem nonchalant about that particular incident. No doubt it was mortifying to him. "So did you … er … have a good summer?" Almost immediately, his expression became slightly panicked and apprehensive, like he was waiting for the girl to explode.

Fortunately she said it had been alright, but then Ron started chewing her out about her Tornadoes badge. Apparently it was a Quidditch team that had been on a winning streak recently and he was worried she was jumping on a bandwagon when, according to her, she'd supported them since she was six. Poor Harry was left to deal with Hermione chewing Ron out about how tactless he was being over the girl obviously wanting to speak exclusively to Harry. They kept the argument up until we got to the dungeons for Snape's Potions class.

I'd been decent at Potions before, in that I could follow a recipe, but I'd never be able to be a Potions Master since I lacked the patience and subtlety needed for such a profession. I hoped that Professor Snape was as firm and fair as my previous Potions teacher, Master Proctor, but I'd have to wait and see.

"Settle down," Professor Snape said coldly as he swept into the already-settled class. He was a tall, thin man with long, greasy-looking black hair and a rather large hooked nose. He wore long black robes that, when he walked down the aisle to the front of the class, swept out behind him like the wings of a dark angel … or a vampire, but whatever. His voice was cold and quiet, but I could clearly understand his every word. I could only imagine that voice reciting Shakespeare onstage – I was sure he'd be marvelous at it if he wanted to be.

"Before we begin today's lesson," he said, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June, you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my … displeasure."

I couldn't help the slight shiver of excitement. He was challenging us to show him how smart we were! Well, Professor, challenge accepted!

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," he continued. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means some of us will certainly be saying goodbye. But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell, so whether you are intending to attempt NEWT or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

"Today, we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method" – he flicked his wand at the blackboard to make the instructions appear – "are on the blackboard. You will find everything you need" – another flick of the wand at a cupboard, which sprang open – "in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half … Start."

I immediately reached into my bag for the hair-clip I kept in my bag specifically for Potions class. After clipping up my unruly black curls, I waved my wand at the blackboard and at my open Potions notebook, copying the recipe straight onto the page in my own handwriting. It was a spell Master Proctor had taught me after I'd told him I had a hard time deciphering his handwriting. Levitating the notebook before me to keep my arms free, I gathered all the ingredients I would need and hurried back to my desk to begin.

I'd taken the Draught of Peace many times before, so I knew how important this particular potion was; however, this was the first time I'd tried to brew it myself instead of watching over someone else's shoulder. Doing it myself, I realized that this potion was very exact about how it was to be made. I had to add the ingredients in exactly the right order and amounts, stir the potion exactly the right amount of times in either direction, the heat of the flames had to keep the potion at exactly the right temperature for the exact amount of minutes before the final ingredient was added. I had to take many deep breaths to keep myself patient and focused; a reoccurring problem with me and Potions was, if I got too frantic, I would rush and end up missing something. Normally, I wouldn't mind too much, but I really wanted to make a good impression on this professor as it was my first day in his class. I didn't want to be seen as a waste of time, space, and potions ingredients to him, as no doubt a few people in this class were.

"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," Professor Snape called after one hour and twenty minutes had gone by. He'd been by my cauldron a couple times in that time, but he'd refused to even glance at me. I decided to take it as if he was waiting to see the final product before he made any critiques; anything else would make me lose my focus.

My potion wasn't perfect – its surface was dark gray rather than light silver – but it wasn't pretending to be a chimney like Harry's or emitting sparks like Ron's. Hermione's was much better than mine – her shimmering, silver potion was practically perfect – and Professor Snape passed it by with no comment, which meant nothing was wrong.

At Harry's cauldron, however, he got this really ugly look on his face. He wore a horribly triumphant curled-lip-smirk that reminded me of a snake revealing its fangs just before it struck.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?" he asked.

"The Draught of Peace," Harry said tensely. He was standing as straight as a ramrod, his shoulders were at a perfect right angle to his tightly-muscled neck, and his eyes were glaring straight into Professor Snape's, almost like he knew what was about to be said and daring the professor to say it anyway. His stance reminded me of mine when I had to deal with my old Astronomy instructor; that awful little man took every opportunity to belittle and harass me, and he also encouraged others to do the same during his class. This couldn't be a good sign as to Professor Snape's temperament.

"Tell me, Potter," Snape said softly, almost … simperingly. "Can you read?"

"Yes, I can," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Before Harry had the chance to squint at the board, I shoved my notebook over to him, making both him and Professor Snape jump in surprise. Harry gave me a slight nod before reading the words on the page.

"'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, and then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.'"

By the way he hesitated slightly at the last part, I realized that he'd forgotten the hellebore. I remembered my Potions instructor talking about this to another class of his about this; he said that the hellebore syrup was the easiest thing to forget because it was the ingredient that had the smallest quantity and that if one did forget it, all one needed to do was add four drops of peanut oil.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?" Professor Snape asked.

"No," Harry said quietly, sounding like it hurt to have that admission torn from him.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," Harry said a bit more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore …"

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless," Professor Snape said, raising his wand to wipe the cauldron clean.

"Professor, couldn't he just add some peanut oil to get the same effect?" I asked hurriedly. "My previous Potions instructor said –"

"Something completely irrelevant to this class," Professor Snape snapped. "Adding peanut oil will lessen the effects of the potion, forcing the dosage higher and making the likelihood of overdose that much higher. Surely your Potions instructor knew that?"

I couldn't help stammering at the venom and … pure malice in his voice. "He … he did, sir, but –"

"Then why would he teach that particular method to his students?"

"Because he always wanted us to have a Plan B!" I said loudly. "Yes, it makes the potion a bit weaker but not as weak as you make it sound! My point is, Harry's potion isn't unable to be salvaged! You don't have to give him a zero for this! It's not fair!"

I suddenly realized the tenseness of the atmosphere around me. I don't think I could hear anyone breathing! Then again, judging by the look of thunderstruck outrage on Professor Snape's face, I had crossed a major line with him.

"… Fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Dolan," he snarled, his lips barely moving. "For presuming you could teach this class better than I. And as for _your_ potion –"

I never gave him the chance to finish.

I simply shoved my full cauldron over and dumped a very hot load of the Draught of Peace all over his floor.

As other students clambered onto their chairs, Professor Snape looked at me incredulously, as though asking me how I could possibly be so stupid as to do something like that.

"You would have given me a zero anyway," I said shrugging as though my eyes didn't have a look of hellfire in them (which I know they did). "For being friends with Harry and daring to not be the mindless drone you're expecting a student of yours to be."

As everyone in the class stared at me looking completely gobsmacked (one of my favorite British words), I cast a quick _Scourgify_ on my utensils and cauldron, charmed my utensils and ingredients to go back where they needed to be, and gave Professor Snape a defiant smile before strutting out of the room.


	7. Catching Hell and Not Caring

Thank you, tazzledmuch, for the review! I dig this story, too, which is kind of obvious since I'm writing it, but whatever. Here's more Reggieness, and the moment I've been waiting for for a long time - Umbridge's class! What will Reggie do about the "Ministry-approved" curriculum and how will the others react to her? Enjoy!

-Owlix

**Chapter Seven: ****Catching Hell and Not Caring**

I was at lunch when Harry, Ron, and Hermione found me. The loud cheering nearly made me choke on the bite of shepherd's pie I had been chewing on. I whipped my head around to see most of the Gryffindor students in my year cheering as they hurried over to me, Ron and Harry in the front of the crowd with a rather disgruntled-looking Hermione bringing up the rear.

"You were bloody brilliant!" Ron cried, slapping me on the back as I kept choking on my food.

"No one's ever talked to Snape like that!" Dean Thomas laughed, sitting down across from me as I got my breath back.

Harry just grinned widely as he sat down next to me, making me grin back at him.

Hermione, not necessarily to my surprise, sniffed in disapproval.

"You really could have hurt the other students, Reggie," she said. "What if they'd gotten hit with the potion?!"

"They would've gotten burned but would be too calm to panic about it," I snapped back. "I don't regret what I did down there. He was being a bully, and I stood up to him. That's all there is to it."

"I always thought Dumbledore was cracked trusting Snape," Ron said hotly. "Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"What?!" I yelped, ignoring everyone flinching at the name.

"Yeah," Ron said with a savage look. "Dumbledore says he switched sides and started spying for our side, but he won't say why Snape switched!"

"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ronald," Hermione snapped.

"Oh shut up, the pair of you!"

Everyone nearby jumped at Harry's snarl. He'd been grinning like he'd just won the lottery mere moments before, and now he looked ready to literally bite our heads off. What was going on?!

"Can't you give it a rest?" Harry continued. "You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad!" Before any of us could react, he grabbed his book-bag and stormed out of the Great Hall.

I blinked a few times before responding.

"I take it that's not normal," I said, pointing in the direction Harry had gone, only to get many shaking heads around the table.

"Told you," Seamus said smugly. "He's mad!"

In a blink, I was on my feet and shoving Seamus's face in his lunch, much to the amazement of the Ravenclaw table next to us. Now having completely lost my appetite, I grabbed my own bag and hurried after Harry, not entirely sure how I would find him since I didn't know his usual haunts.

Finally, I had to give up and head to Ancient Runes, where I found a rather harried Hermione waiting for me. I managed to sit down right as the bell rang, much to the class's amusement.

Professor Babbling was the one teaching Ancient Runes, and she was absolutely eccentric! As her name suggested, she barely let us get a word in edgewise, babbling on about different runes and their translations. It was almost like Professor Binns on caffeine! It was all I could do to take notes, let alone answer any questions asked of me (of which there were none, thankfully). Hermione kept sending me disapproving glares out of the corner of her eye throughout the lesson, no doubt still angry at me for my earlier treatment of Snape and Seamus; I'd need to talk to her about that, I realized.

The walk down to Defense Against the Dark Arts was quiet and tense. I didn't quite know what to say to ease the tension, but I did know Hermione would go off on me if I opened my mouth and we didn't have time for that just yet so I kept my mouth shut.

Professor Umbridge was standing at the teacher's desk when we walked in and took our seats. Hermione and I sat next to each other, and Ron and Harry sat next to each other across the aisle from us.

"Wands away and quills out, please," Professor Umbridge said sweetly. I noticed that as everyone else did so, their faces were rather gloomy.

As I sat at the desk, ready to take notes, Professor Umbridge took out an unusually short wand and rapped the board sharply, making a message appear:

Defense Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" she asked, facing us with her hands clasped in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

I ignored what she was now writing on the board because two words stood out in that little speech: "theory centered". That was it?! Theory?! I learned that in my first year at Salem's! When she passed out the class books, I immediately recognized it as the very book I had used in my first year Magical Theory class. I couldn't believe this!

My hand shot straight in the air and stayed there for at least thirty minutes before Professor Umbridge finally deigned to call on me.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked, as though she'd only just noticed me.

"No, ma'am," I said firmly despite the burn in my aching arm and shoulder. "I have a question about your 'Ministry-approved' curriculum."

She raised her eyebrows before continuing.

"And your name is – ?"

"Regina Dolan," I said, not willing to let her call me by the nickname I only told potential friends about.

"Well, Miss Dolan, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read through them carefully."

"I don't need to," I said hotly. "You described them when you said our class would be 'theory-centered'. You're not going to actually teach us how to use higher level spells that'll be on our OWLS – you're just slamming us back into the Magical Theory class we all took first year!"

Everyone tensed up in shock, no doubt realizing that I was right.

"_Using_ higher level spells?" Professor Umbridge giggled. I _hate_ giggles, in case you've forgotten. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Dolan. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"No," I said, overriding the comment that started to come from Ron's mouth, "but I _do_ expect to be able to perform higher level defensive spells in the practical portion of my OWL exams, which I won't be able to do if I don't put the theory I've learned into action at least once beforehand!"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Dolan?"

"No more than you are, you government mole," I snapped. I immediately sensed the same tension that had been in Potions when I'd challenged Professor Snape. I would get in trouble here, I was certain of it.

Professor Umbridge's face turned light pink before continuing in a slightly tenser tone.

"Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way –"

"What use is that?" Harry interrupted, surprising me as well as everyone else. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a –"

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. Potter!" Professor Umbridge snapped, ignoring Harry when he jabbed his fist into the air. However, she couldn't ignore the other hands that had been tentatively raised.

"And your name is?" she asked Dean Thomas.

"Dean Thomas, ma'am, and it's like Harry said, isn't it? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free –"

"I repeat," Professor Umbridge smiled, "do you expect to be attacked during my class?"

"No but –"

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said unconvincingly, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention, extremely dangerous half-breeds."

Before I could voice my confusion, Dean piped up angrily, defending the honor of someone he called "Professor Lupin", but Professor Umbridge overrode him again and continued.

"You have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day –"

"No, we haven't!" Hermione cried, _much_ to my surprise. "We just –"

"_Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!_"

She again ignored the hand of the person talking to her and continued.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them _on_ you! Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she asked one of the Giggles.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't Reggie right about the practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions."

"So, by your logic," I said, with my hand up, "if I study long enough about how to lay an egg, I should be able to do it, right?"

The entire class dissolved into chuckles about the ridiculousness of my statement and the darkening color of Professor Umbridge's face, which was now an awful rosy color.

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry shouted, his fist in the air as well.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world."

"Isn't school supposed to prepare us for the real world?" I asked snidely.

"Not to mention for what's waiting out there!" Harry said loudly.

"There is nothing out waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, his eyes glittering like hellfire as his face went dark red, his anger boiling over.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?"

"Oh boy, I've got such a list for you!" I said, turning to smile savagely at Harry. "Let's see, there are muggers, kidnappers, terrorists, rapists, child abusers –"

"And Lord Voldemort!"

I knew Harry had played right into her trap the moment I saw Umbridge's grimly satisfied smile. She knew he couldn't resist telling everyone that Voldemort was back, so she set him up to announce it in the middle of class! Stupid! Why couldn't I catch that beforehand?!

"Now," Professor Umbridge said softly but firmly, "let me make things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark Wizard is at large once again. _This … is … a … __**lie!**_"

"It's NOT a lie!" Harry cried in outrage. "I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!"

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" Harry yelled, standing up to glare straight at Umbridge.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge said in a fake sympathetic tone.

"It was murder!" Harry shouted. "Voldemort killed him, you must know this –"

"ENOUGH!" Umbridge shrieked, magenta in the face, before gathering her composure and trilling, "I will see you for detention at five o'clock tomorrow night, Mr. Potter. My office," she ended with a slight giggle. "Begin reading chapter one, if you please."

I could clearly see we had no choice but to obey her for the moment, so I opened the book and began to read it … again.

"Oh, and Miss Dolan?"

I looked up at her and simply raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to continue.

"You will be joining Mr. Potter in detention as well. Five o'clock tomorrow night, my office."

I felt as though I'd been punched in the gut. I knew I've always had a real problem with authority, but normally said authority figures would at least discuss with me about the problems I had, not talk over me as if I were in kindergarten.

I drummed my long fingernails on my desk as I glared straight into Professor Umbridge's eyes as she stared right back at me, waiting for me to accept a detention I didn't deserve.

"Actually, I won't be," I said, gathering my parchment, quill, and ink before standing up without my book. "You see, I seem to be in the wrong class. I thought I'd be in OWL-level Defense Against the Dark Arts, not back in first year Magical Theory. I'm afraid I'm going to have to talk to Professor McGonagall about switching to a different class."

Before the gaping toad could say a word, I spun around on my heel and marched out of the classroom, knowing I was going to catch major hell for this and not caring in the slightest. I refused to be in a class where I was unable to learn what I needed to achieve my life's ambition. It was an absolute waste of my time, and not to mention the hard-earned tuition money Mom was paying Dumbledore to let me learn here. Steam practically shooting from my ears, I marched straight to the library, eager to catch up on the OWL-level hexes and jinxes Umbridge would never teach us.


	8. Just Imagine

Hey everybody! I'm sorry this is a short one, but I REALLY wanted to get this out as soon as possible and I need to get to work soon! So, read and enjoy the Reggieness! Thank you!

-Owlix

**Chapter Eight: ****Just Imagine**

My impromptu study session ended up getting interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who all but demanded I follow her up to her office. Now, being ordered around still bugged me big-time, but when the person doing the ordering deserved my respect, I generally obeyed them. In this instance, Professor McGonagall was not only my Head of House but also my Deputy Headmistress, so I obeyed her almost without hesitation.

"Come in here, Dolan," she said, her Scottish brogue rather thick at the moment.

"Well?" she asked. "Is it true?"

"Is what true, Professor?" I asked, still smarting over Umbridge's class.

"Is it true that you disrespected Professor Umbridge?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, unconsciously standing at attention and speaking as though I was in the military.

"You called her a liar?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You walked out of her class, claiming that you were in the wrong class."

"Yes, _ma'am_!" I said, daring to wear a proud smirk as I did so.

She sat down behind her desk and stared at me for a long moment.

"Have a biscuit, Dolan."

I blinked in surprise, not expecting that at all.

"Have – what?"

"Have a biscuit," she repeated impatiently, indicating a tin of cookies sitting on top of a pile of papers on her desk. "And at ease. Do sit down!"

Those two words, "at ease", almost immediately made me relax a little as I sat down and almost timidly helped myself to a Ginger Newt, which was actually pretty good and helped to settle my queasy stomach. I didn't quite know what to expect from this teacher just yet so I was trying to be careful, but the fact that I felt so confused and unsteady didn't help at all.

At the moment, Professor McGonagall had a very serious look on her face, which actually reminded me the look Mom had whenever she was trying to warn me about her husband's temper.

"Dolan, you need to be careful."

Her voice raised so many red flags for me, it wasn't even funny; in contrast to its normal brisk and stern tone, it was actually low and anxious and almost … human!

"Misbehavior in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than House points and a detention. Think about to whom she is reporting, and think about your friends here! Think of what she could do to them if you insist on testing her so harshly!"

"She wouldn't dare, dammit!" I cried, outraged at the thought of that … toad hurting Harry or Hermione.

"Oh, she most certainly would!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "She had a brother when she was small, one who ended up being bitten by a werewolf. The transformations he went through tore her world apart and flung it on its ear! She lived for years in fear of her own brother, and she eventually put him down herself! If she was willing to kill her own brother and make it look like an accident or self-defense, just imagine what she could do to a young wizard with a volatile temper, an already-spotted reputation, and a _criminal record_, whether it was cleared or not! Potter needs support at this time, that is true, but he also needs eyes peeled out for his safety! And that means that you, as his newfound friend, need to think of how your actions could affect him, as well as yourself!"

The fireplace behind Professor McGonagall was full of warm coals and dancing flames, but I suddenly felt as cold as the dungeons. Shivers went up and down my spine at the idea that my actions could threaten one of my first real friends! I'd never had to look out for others before; I'd never let anyone close enough to feel the need to. But something about Harry sparked a kind of kinship in me, one that I would be damned to betray at this time. If I was threatening him with the temper tantrums I was throwing at other teachers, who knows how much damage I'd already done?!

"What do I do?" I asked, my voice almost unrecognizable even to my own ears. It was small and quiet and quivering with fright. Professor McGonagall gave me a nod and pushed the tin toward me, quietly offering me another biscuit while she went through her papers. She pulled out one that was such a shocking shade of Pepto Bismol pink that I had no doubt who it had come from.

"For starters," Professor McGonagall said as I chewed on another Ginger Newt, "you need to clear out your detention ledger. After hearing about your detention with Professor Umbridge, Professor Snape has agreed to let you off with a warning. But be aware that you cannot throw your potions around like you're splashing an offensive suitor, Dolan. One more report of behavior like that, and I'll be bringing you down to the dungeons by the ear for detention myself. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, wiping the crumbs off of my skirt. "And … Professor Umbridge?"

"She has given you and Potter detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow," Professor McGonagall said. "I don't want to hear any protests, Dolan; she is your teacher, whether you like it or not, and has every right to give you detention. Just remember: tread carefully around her!"

I took a deep breath, not at all happy that I wasn't getting my way this time but understanding that I had stepped over the line more than once today.

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a tense silence that followed. I could sense Professor McGonagall assessing me and my behavior, but I refused to look her in the eye. If I was being totally honest, I was terrified of her seeing too much.

"Is your father in the military, Dolan?"

I blinked and looked up at the unconventional question. The look on her face, though, told me that it wasn't out of malice that she'd asked; she simply wanted to clarify something.

"No, my mother's husband is," I said quietly but firmly. "My father died before Mom could tell him she was pregnant."

Professor McGonagall stared sharply at me for a long time, seeming to see more than I was comfortable showing. This time, I refused to back down; I was a Gryffindor, and I needed to prove it at least to her. For some reason, I found myself wanting to please her, at least a little.

Finally she nodded firmly.

"I see," she said crisply. "Well, do know that you can come to me with any information you feel needs to reach my ears. My door is always open, and know that I am not Head of the House of Lions for nothing. I have heard many people call me an old battle-axe when I'm in a mood."

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"That's something I'd pay to see," I said, smirking again, "just as long as you weren't 'in a mood' with me."

"Oh, I have no doubt you'll see it by the end the year is out," Professor McGonagall said, almost self-consciously straightening her papers out. "Well, dinner is underway, no doubt. Why don't you go and find your friends; I rather think they will have been searching rather frantically for you."

I gave her a small smile and stood up.

"Thank you, ma'am, I will!"

And with that, our conversation firmly lodged in my mind, I turned and almost marched out of the office, determined to keep Harry as safe as I could. I had no doubt he had tried to protect me before; it was time I returned the favor.


	9. Welcome To My Life

Hey, guys! I'm back with another awesome Reggie chapter! This will probably be the only update tonight, but I'll try to update "Do You Believe In Magic" tomorrow if I can. Tazzledmuch, thanks again for your awesomely enthusiastic reviews - they make me very happy and spin around in my own spinny chair! About Hermione and Reggie's discussion at the end of the chapter - someone that I respect very much recently pointed out that there was quite a bit of swearing in this story and she didn't feel comfortable knowing I was putting that forward, so I decided to give Reggie a talking-to about her swearing issue through the Queen of Propriety, Miss Hermione Granger. Hope you like it! Enjoy!

-Owlix

**Chapter Nine: ****Welcome To My Life**

As I headed down to the Great Hall, I couldn't help but think of the conversation I'd had with Professor McGonagall. All my life, I'd only looked after Me; no one else would look out for Me, so I had to do it. I'd known a lot of people who wanted to get closer to me, but I'd never allowed them to. Maybe it was because my personal nightmare was too close, whereas in England, there was an entire ocean between me and _him_.

But somehow, a skinny boy with a mess of hair and tormented eyes managed to walk through my walls and into my life. Maybe I recognized the torment as my own … maybe I just wanted to make the torment go away … or maybe I was just tired of being lonely and clung to one of the first people I found.

I was torn from my musing by angry voices coming toward me. I instinctively hid behind a nearby suit of armor to see if I could avoid the confrontation. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was just Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were all discussing something rather heatedly.

" … We just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you."

"Which is the truth!" Harry said loudly.

"You know, you really should stop biting your friends' heads off," I said, swaggering slightly as I stepped out from behind the suit of armor. For a moment, I felt a great sense of warmth at the absolute relief on Harry's face when he saw me, but that moment was ruined when he marched over to me, glaring ferociously.

"Where have you been?!" he growled. "Getting chummy with McGonagall this whole time?! No doubt you've been talking about –"

"– Keeping your skinny ass safe from Umbridge, actually!" I retorted hotly. Just because he was experiencing major PMS didn't mean I had to stand there and take his abuse. I had enough of that elsewhere, thank you!

"I don't need to be kept safe!" Harry said loudly, standing almost too close. "Let alone by someone who doesn't even know half of what's going on!"

"And whose fault is that?!" I snapped. "I would gladly ask what was going on but anytime someone asks you what happened last summer, you act like a war vet with PTSD!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE!" Harry bellowed. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW! NO BLOODY IDEA!

"Really?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "Let me guess. You're constantly seeing whatever happened in your head over and over, not only in nightmares but in flashbacks! You're trying everything you can to avoid even thinking about what happened to you, but you can't because every day it's right in your face! You can't even enjoy the company of the people you love because they might be next! You can't concentrate on anything because you can't stop thinking about what happened! _And_ you know that what happened could happen again so you're constantly on high alert, completely aware of anything loud or sudden or out of place! Is that it?! Is that what it's like?! HUH?!"

By the end of that little speech, I was visibly trembling from head to toe, glaring at Harry through stormy-grey, tear-filled eyes. Harry was staring at me in absolute shock, like I'd slapped him in the face with a frying pan.

"How …?" he started to ask, but something he saw in my face made him trail off.

"You're not the only one who's had a hard life, Harry," I snarled, quickly wiping under my eyes to get rid of the tears. "There are other people who've had it rough too. You're just too busy wallowing in self-pity and depression to notice. Try pulling your head out of your ass once in a while! You'll be amazed what you notice!"

I spun on my heel and marched away, unbelievably hurt that Harry dared assume I had no idea what his life was like. I mean, yeah, I was all confidence and bravado, but did he really think that was all there was to me?

I marched all over Hogwarts until I came upon what looked like an abandoned corridor. I was still absolutely fuming and needed something to let out all of my anger. For some reason, I started pacing, focusing on nothing but my anger and my need to let it out. After the third rotation, I paused and stared in shock at what had previously been a blank wall – it was now a large wooden door that was opening itself to me.

What awaited me on the inside made me grin: a state-of-the-art karaoke system, complete with a wireless microphone, a mike-stand, and a stereo system that would make any rock-and-roll fan jealous. Knowing exactly what I needed to do, I raced up to the karaoke system and looked for the song I really needed – "Welcome to My Life" by Simple Plan.

_Do you ever feel like breaking down?_  
_Do you ever feel out of place,_  
_Like somehow you just don't belong_  
_And no one understands you?_  
_Do you ever wanna run away?_  
_Do you lock yourself in your room_  
_With the radio on turned up so loud_  
_That no one hears you're screaming?_

_No, you don't know what it's like_  
_When nothing feels all right_  
_You don't know what it's like_  
_To be like me_

_To be hurt_  
_To feel lost_  
_To be left out in the dark_  
_To be kicked when you're down_  
_To feel like you've been pushed around_  
_To be on the edge of breaking down_  
_And no one's there to save you_  
_No, you don't know what it's like_  
_Welcome to my life_

_Do you wanna be somebody else?_  
_Are you sick of feeling so left out?_  
_Are you desperate to find something more_  
_Before your life is over?_  
_Are you stuck inside a world you hate?_  
_Are you sick of everyone around?_  
_With their big fake smiles and stupid lies_  
_While deep inside you're bleeding_

_No, you don't know what it's like_  
_When nothing feels all right_  
_You don't know what it's like_  
_To be like me_

_To be hurt_  
_To feel lost_  
_To be left out in the dark_  
_To be kicked when you're down_  
_To feel like you've been pushed around_  
_To be on the edge of breaking down_  
_And no one's there to save you_  
_No you don't know what it's like_  
_Welcome to my life_

_No one ever lied straight to your face_  
_And no one ever stabbed you in the back_  
_You might think I'm happy but I'm not gonna be okay_  
_Everybody always gave you what you wanted_  
_You never had to work it was always there_  
_You don't know what it's like, what it's like_

_To be hurt_  
_To feel lost_  
_To be left out in the dark_  
_To be kicked when you're down_  
_To feel like you've been pushed around_  
_To be on the edge of breaking down_  
_And no one's there to save you_  
_No, you don't know what it's like (What it's like)_

_To be hurt_  
_To feel lost_  
_To be left out in the dark_  
_To be kicked when you're down_  
_To feel like you've been pushed around_  
_To be on the edge of breaking down_  
_And no one's there to save you_  
_No, you don't know what it's like_  
_Welcome to my life_  
_Welcome to my life_  
_Welcome to my life_

When the song was done, I took a deep breath and decided I needed a little more musical therapy. I sang quite a few songs, including "Perfect" by Simple Plan, "Numb" by Linkin Park, and "21 Guns" by Green Day and finally ended with "They Don't Really Care About Us" by the immortal Michael Jackson.

Now firmly stuck in a slightly depressed and definitely angry mood, I stalked back to Gryffindor Tower to find a rather strange sight. Fred and George were sitting in the middle of a circle of first years and handing them something out of a brown paper bag. As they chewed, I saw each and every one of those kids fall unconscious in their seats.

"Holy shit!" I yelled, marching over to them. "What the hell did you give them!?"

"Calm down, Reggie," George said as Fred walked around and carefully looked each first year over. "They're Fainting Fancies, part of our Skiving Snackboxes! It's perfectly safe –"

"You obviously don't know that since you're still testing them out! And on _first years_, no less!" I snapped, pointing at the students, who were now being fed a purple something by Fred.

"Oh honestly! I told you this morning, you can't test you rubbish on students!"

George and I both jumped when Hermione came marching over to us, her dark eyes glinting sharply.

"We're paying them!" Fred said indignantly.

"I don't care, it could be dangerous!" she cried.

"Rubbish!" Fred said dismissively.

"Yeah, look, they're coming around now," George said, pointing at the now-stirring students. Quite a few of them looked quite astonished to be flat on the floor or dangling off of their chair. Hmmm …

"You didn't tell them what they were testing on them, did you?!" I snarled, narrowing my eyes at the twins as I stalked closer. "You just let the bitsy little first years trust you because you're the popular upperclassmen who obviously know better than everyone else!"

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter!" Fred said angrily. "They're alive, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but what if it's not candy you're giving them?!" I yelled. "What if it's alcohol, drugs, or something even worse!"

"You can't do this!" Hermione shrieked, surprisingly backing me up. "What if you made one of them really ill?"

"We're not going to make them ill," George said, obviously trying to keep things under control. "We've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same –"

"If you don't stop," Hermione snarled, actually sounding just like I had a moment ago, "I'm going to –"

"Put us in detention?" Fred sneered in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try sort of voice.

"Make us write lines?" George smirked.

Hermione and I looked at each other and seemed to get the same idea. We smirked and drew ourselves to our full height (which wasn't much – I'm 5'2" and she's 5'5" or 5'6").

"No," I sneered before looking at Hermione again to wave my hand in an if-you'll-do-the-honors motion.

"But I will write to your mother!" Hermione said, her voice shaking in anger.

"You wouldn't!" George gasped, taking a full step away from us.

"Oh yes, I would!" Hermione said grimly. "I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not giving them to first years."

With that, Hermione and I spun on our heels and marched over to where Harry and Ron were waiting for us, gaping like beached fish.

"Thanks for that," I muttered over to Hermione.

"You're quite welcome," she said a bit stiffly. "I'm just glad someone agrees with me about those two."

"Absolutely," I said as we came up on the boys.

"Uh … mind if I join you?" I asked, pointing to the empty chair I saw in front of me.

"Y-Yeah, sure," Harry stammered a bit, pointing to the seat.

I smiled and took out a roll of parchment, asking what our homework was for Potions and Defense.

"Nothing for Defense," Hermione said crisply. "You shook her up too much for her to give us any." She ignored my smirk as she continued. "Professor Snape, on the other hand, assigned us twelve inches on moonstones and their properties and uses in potion-making."

I blinked before nodding and fishing my potions book out of my bag. I was certain there were a few sections on moonstones in there somewhere …

"You're actually doing Snape's homework?!" Ron gasped in horror.

"A minimum of 'Exceeds Expectations' in NEWT Potions is required if I want to be an Auror," I said matter-of-factly. "I may not like Snape, but I do need to learn what I can from him before I go into training."

"You were serious about that, then?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely!" I said, giving him a sharp look before going back to my homework. "You'd best start on _your_ essay. Umbridge will make us regret leaving our homework to sit, I can almost guarantee it!"

"You're still going to her detention?" Harry asked, not taking my homework advice in favor of questioning me.

I rolled my eyes and fixed him with a pretty stern look.

"Professor McGonagall said I had to," I said. "Normally, I don't like being bossed around, but I respect her so, for now, I'll do what she says. Now, quit flapping your lips and get going!"

Harry flinched before scrambling to get his homework out, obviously wanting to avoid me losing my temper with him again.

On top of our Potions homework, which was moderately easy once I had all of the information I needed, we also had an essay on giant wars from Professor Binns. That one took a while because Binns had gone all over the place with the information and I had a hard time finding it in the textbook. By the time I had only my Ancient Runes essay left, I had a small headache festering above my right ear.

"I'm heading to bed," Ron muttered, looking horribly lost as he packed his Potions essay and headed up the stairs. Harry soon followed him, looking like he knew he was going to regret it. Hermione and I stubbornly stayed put and worked together to finish our essay, with her giving me tips on what to focus on with Professor Babbling.

"She may seem to go off on tangents, but she always stays within the chapter," she said. "Just pretend you're following along in the book and take notes from there."

"Thanks, 'Mione," I groaned as I packed my now-finished Ancient Runes essay away. "I owe you one."

"Oh no, you don't," she said loftily. "That's what friends are for."

I blinked up at her in surprise.

"We're still friends?" I ask. "Even though you don't like what I've been doing today?"

"Of course we're still friends!" Hermione said, looking a bit affronted. "I mean, I don't agree with your problems with authority _or_ your swearing problem, but you say what you mean and mean what you say! That's very rare these days, and I like that very much!"

"Th-Thanks," I said, still very surprised. "… Is it a _problem_, my swearing?"

"… Yes, I think it is," Hermione said quietly. "You can barely speak a whole sentence without swearing when you're in a foul mood! Yes, it can seem strong to some people, but to very important people, it just looks crass and, frankly, rather common. I don't think you want to appear that way, especially to people like your future boss or your future in-laws!"

Frankly, I didn't think anyone would be crazy enough to want to date me, let alone introduce me to their parents, but I swallowed that comment when I saw that Hermione was quite serious.

"I'm not expecting you to just kick the habit overnight," she said, "but at least try, just for one class a day, to not swear!"

"Just one class period?" I asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, nodding as if this was the best answer available. "Try … third hour. What do you have third hour?"

I quickly rattled off all my third period classes as "Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology".

Hermione frowned a little.

"Care of Magical Creatures will be a bit difficult since we have the class with the Slytherins," she said, wincing slightly as we went upstairs to our dormitory, "but I'll be with you. If I'm worried about you swearing, I'll … um … tap you on the shoulder or something."

"… Thanks, 'Mione," I said tiredly. "Can't promise that I'll be perfect, but … I'll give it a try, I guess."

Hermione gave me a relieved smile that would have made it seem worth it if I thought I could actually kick this habit. It had been so ingrained in me to swear when I was angry or wanted to throw up a wall to hide behind that I thought I was more likely to dye my hair pink than quit swearing.

"You'll do fine," Hermione said confidently as we entered the dormitory. "I know you will."


	10. A Very Long Day

Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated this story for a while, but my other story was calling my name! Stupid plot bunnies! Anyway, many thanks to tazzledmuch, T. H. Ensley, BrownEyedDreamr, and Shannyrox101 for their awesome and very frank reviews. I hope this chapter works for everyone and explains a couple things about the last chapter. My little tribute to J.K. Rowling is in there somewhere, see if you can find it! Please read, enjoy, and review! Thanks!

-Owlix

**Chapter Ten: ****A Very Long Day**

That night, Hermione asked me a question as we were getting ready for bed.

"Where were you?" she asked. "After you yelled at Harry?"

I shrugged. "Enjoying some musical therapy, that's all."

"Musical therapy?" she repeated, looking terribly confused.

I nodded. I didn't normally tell this story, but I figured that if I wanted them to trust me, I had to trust them with something. My past seemed like a good place to start.

"When I was about … twelve, I think, I started getting very angry at the world," I said quietly, even though the other girls were already asleep. "I started lashing out at others in the only way I could – hurting them back. I picked fights with people I wanted to hurt, threw bricks through their windows, told lies about them to others; I became … a bully, which was the one thing I hated more than anything.

"I had a teacher – Miss Rowling – who saw that I really needed help before I ended up in juvie or worse. She was the music teacher at Salem, and she knew that I had a bit of a talent for music. One day, when I was about thirteen, she created a small karaoke bar in the choir room and told us that we had to sing the one song that described how we were feeling that day. I sang 'Bad' by Michael Jackson," I remembered with a chuckle, "complete with the dance routine. Miss Rowling gave me a standing ovation and said, 'That's what I was asking for! Putting all of your self on that stage and into the song!'

"That was the first time any of my teachers had publically praised me for something, which for a kid like me was absolutely mind-blowing. I also realized that singing songs that described how I was feeling helped me get the worst of the anger out so I didn't end up punching someone's lights out. I was still a violent kid, but I was able to channel it better, use it to protect others, y'know? And now, whenever I feel like I have to let something out and I can't walk it off or mouth off at someone, I wait until I can be alone and just … sing it all out. Singing and dancing it all out is a lot more gratifying than yelling into a pillow or punching someone, and it won't send you to jail, either."

Hermione chuckled a little at that last comment before going quiet while she got into bed.

"Miss Rowling sounds like quite the lady," she said with a smile.

"She is," I grinned as I bounced into bed. "She's helped me in ways that I can never repay her for. She's more of a mom than anything else, to be honest."

That surprised Hermione.

"Really?!"

"Yep," I replied. "She doesn't have guardianship or anything, but she's … kinda become my mentor. She's trying to get a master-apprentice contract so she can have proper guardianship of me, but … my mom's husband won't let her."

"… Can't your mum do something about that?" Hermione asked timidly.

I let out a bitter scoff.

"What _can_ she do?!" I asked. "That bas … monster has her under his thumb!"

Hermione was quiet for a long time before speaking.

"I understand. Good job not swearing, by the way!"

I smirked at her.

"You would've thrown a pillow at me if I had," I said, curling up under the covers.

"Yes, I would have," Hermione said matter-of-factly, though she was smirking as well. "Get some sleep. You'll need it this week."

"Thanks, 'Mione," I said, falling quiet for a while before adding, "for everything."

I fell asleep before I heard her response, but knowing that I had a friend here was more comforting than I thought it would be.

The next day at breakfast, Hermione seemed mildly pleased about something. When Ron asked her what she had to be so happy about on this gray and rainy day, she just smiled over at me and said,

"Oh, nothing. I'm just glad Reggie is still here with us. Especially after last night."

To my surprise, Harry looked a bit ashamed as he looked down at his rather sparse breakfast: two sausages and a slice of toast with pumpkin juice to drink. Noting the meal with disapproval, I looked up and down the table until I found a platter of large muffins. Smirking a little, I Summoned two of them and placed one on Harry's plate.

"Oops!" I said innocently as he looked up at me in surprise. "I guess you'll have to eat that one!"

Ignoring Hermione's efforts to not giggle and Ron's confused impression of a beached fish, I gave Harry a wink and bit into my muffin. It was actually quite good, with whole-wheat flour, blueberries, and bananas in it. Harry took a tentative bite of his after a moment and looked pleasantly surprised at the taste. He looked back over at me and gave me a grateful look and a nod, knowing that my offering was more than a mischievous desire to see him fed. It was a peace offering, letting him know that we were cool again.

The first two classes of the day – Double Charms and Double Transfiguration – were very much centered on the OWL exams that were coming at the end of the year.

"What you must remember," Professor Flitwick had told us from the top of his book stack, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"

His little lecture had been followed by exhaustive reviewing of Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were certain to show up in our OWLs, and the largest amount of Charms homework ever! I groaned at the thought of staying up late working on homework after Umbridge's detention. I resolved to spend my breaks and lunch hours in the library to make sure I stayed caught up; Miss Rowling would come over the pond just to skin me alive if I fell behind.

In Transfiguration, my initial instinct about Professor McGonagall was once again confirmed: that tough broad was definitely not one to mess with, especially in her class.

"You cannot pass an OWL," she said grimly, "without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration. Yes, you too, Longbottom," she said bracingly to Neville, who looked very disbelieving. "There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So … today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

And she wasn't joking either! Transfiguration gave me a headache at the best of times, but Vanishing Spells were insanely hard! Harry and Ron couldn't Vanish their snails and had to practice overnight, but Hermione managed it on her third try. I managed to make my snail look more transparent, but judging by the slime trail it left behind, it was still there. Professor McGonagall gave me a quick nod and a "Good first try" smile when she came to check on my work, which made me even more determined to master this spell. I knew that if I mastered this difficult spell first, other spells in this class might come a bit more easily, which is probably why Professor McGonagall assigned them to us in the first place.

During lunch, Harry and Ron were panicking over their Potions essay while I worked on my Charms homework, knowing that I would have very limited time for homework tonight. Hermione joined me after fifteen minutes with a large napkin (or "serviette" as she called it) wrapped around a turkey sandwich, complete with lettuce, Swiss cheese, and mayo.

"Just the way I like it!" I said with a delighted smile. "Thanks!"

"Of course," Hermione said. "I saw you eat this a few days ago and thought you might like it again. Just don't eat it in here! Madame Pince will have your head!"

"Thanks for the warning!" I chuckled. "So, on the Charms essay …"

We spent lunch going over the essay but only managed to get an outline figured out before we had to get to Care of Magical Creatures, with me munching on my sandwich as we went. As we went down towards a cabin near the edge of the forest, Hermione reached over and grabbed my hand. This was third period – the one time today I would have to actively try to not swear. Hermione had warned me that quite a few Slytherins were in this class as well, but she had promised me that she would be there to help. I had my doubts about kicking my swearing habit, but Hermione had faith in me and that made me decide to at least try.

I gave her a smile, which got me a nod and a hand squeeze, before we came upon Professor Grubbly-Plank, who was apparently substituting for the actual teacher, whoever he was. As we reached her, we heard a shout of laughter behind us, which turned out to be Malfoy and his little band of followers. Judging by how they kept looking at Harry as they laughed, he was probably the butt of the joke. I reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze when he looked at me. He nodded in thanks before listening to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Let's crack on then," she barked. "Who can tell me what these things are?" She indicated a pile of twigs in front of her. When one of them twitched and looked up, I recognized it as a bowtruckle, a wand-tree guardian. I had seen a few of them in my neighborhood park before, and I thought they were quite funny when you weren't messing around with their tree.

I raised my hand, surprising everyone but Hermione, who also had her hand up. Professor Grubbly-Plank called on me, which also surprised everyone.

"Bowtruckles, ma'am," I said. "They're tree guardians, normally for wand-trees. Wandmakers _love_ them!"

"Five points for Gryffindor," Professor Grubbly-Plank said, causing a rush of competitive delight to flood through me. "Yes, these are bowtruckles, and as Miss Dolan rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"

"Wood lice," Hermione said promptly, "but fairy eggs if you can get them."

"Good girl, take another five points for Gryffindor!"

I smiled over at Hermione and held out my hand, palm facing her. She looked a bit confused before recognizing my offering as a high-five. She slapped her palm against mine before listening to Professor Grubbly-Plank again.

"They may not look dangerous," she was saying, "but if angered, they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a bowtruckle – I have enough for one between four – you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labeled by the end of the lesson."

I decisively walked forward, scooped up a handful of wood lice in my left hand, and held it out toward the bowtruckles. Sure enough, one of them actually climbed onto my hand, allowing me to carry it back to the others. Harry had been talking to Professor Grubbly-Plank, but he looked rather put-out when he came back so it obviously hadn't gone well.

We were on the ground in a circle around the bowtruckle, no doubt frightening the poor thing, which was getting a tad defensive. I decided to work quickly to draw it out, not wanting to put the little guardian through more trauma than necessary. Harry was whispering something to Hermione, who was whispering back with a placating look on her face, as if she was trying to reassure Harry about something.

"Yes," came Malfoy's voice suddenly and _quite_ loudly, "Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place. So even if that over-grown moron _does_ show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straight away."

Harry let out a dark growl and started to stand up, but I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down beside me.

"Dammit, pay attention, Harry!" I said sharply, giving Hermione a sharp look when she whacked me on the head with a new roll of parchment. "D'you _want_ the bowtruckle to run off? 'Cause it will if you leave it an opening!"

Harry grumbled the rest of the period, but he stayed put as I'd told him to. I noticed that talking sharply to Harry made him more likely to obey direct requests or demands. Maybe I would have to do that until he got himself a major attitude adjustment.

Before the bell rang, Malfoy tried to get another dig in, but I growled over at him,

"No one cares, Malfoy. If someone gave a flying rat's ass about you, _you'd_ be Hogwarts's Golden Boy, _not Harry!_ Obviously people have better things to do than actually care about _you!_"

Malfoy looked deeply insulted and almost hurt but the bell rang before he could say anything. I could hear the whispers around me, but I didn't care. I was sick and tired of Malfoy constantly picking at Harry and wanted more than anything to publically and humiliatingly put him in his place. I noticed that Hermione hadn't whacked me again, but maybe she decided that Malfoy deserved it just this one time.

Hermione and I walked over to Professor Grubbly-Plank to turn in my homework before hurrying to join the boys up the path. Harry was obviously gnashing his teeth, but when I came up to him, he relaxed a little. He was very quiet as we walked over to the greenhouses for our Herbology class.

I was surprised when Harry lightly nudged me with his elbow.

"… Thanks," he muttered, looking the other way.

I smiled a little and nudged him back.

"No problem," I said as a gaggle of fourth years came out of the greenhouses, including Ginny and Luna.

The moment Luna saw Harry, she made a beeline for him, ignoring the dirt on her nose and the curious stares of others. Without so much as a hello, she took a breath and declared: "I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I believe you fought him and escaped from him."

I don't know why, but something about what Luna had said knocked me over the head like a ton of bricks. Harry had said in Umbridge's class that he'd fought Voldemort and that a boy had died during the encounter, but I hadn't connected the dots until now. Harry had been _captured_, along with another boy, by the most dangerous Dark Wizard ever known, had _fought_ him, and had managed to _escape_ him, while the other boy hadn't survived the encounter. I'd been through some rough times before, but I'd never had anything like _that_ happen before! How the hell had Harry managed it?!

"You can laugh!" Luna cried, glaring at Parvati and Lavender, who were behind us. "But people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"Well, they were right, weren't they?" Hermione said impatiently. "There _weren't_ any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"That you're aware of!" I said, not willing to let Luna get teased or put down in my presence. "Just because you've never seen them doesn't mean they don't exist! You'd never seen Hogwarts before you were eleven, but it's been existing for long before then. Why can't those creatures do the same?"

Luna gave me a grateful look before flouncing away, her radish earrings swinging at her earlobes.

People kept giving me weird looks until some pompous-looking Hufflepuff boy loudly declared that he believed Harry as well. I sent him a smirk and a nod, which he surprisingly returned before we got to work. We had yet another OWL lecture and a long, exhausting class before we headed off to dinner, stinking of dragon dung.

It had been a very long day so far, and there was still Umbridge's detention left!

Great …


	11. Detention with the Were-Toad

Here it is, folks: the dreaded detention scene! How will Reggie react to this? Will she freak out, or will she remember what McGonagall told her about Umbridge? And how will she handle Harry? Please tell me what you think about this! Tazzledmuch, I think it's time that I declare you my biggest fan! You've reviewed every chapter I've written, and your reviews are such an encouragement because you're just as much of a dork about these stories as I am! You're awesome and I love you! To everyone else, please read, enjoy, and review!

-Owlix

**Chapter Eleven: ****Detention with the Were-Toad**

Harry and I didn't even bother dropping our bags off at Gryffindor Tower since we needed to be at Umbridge's office by five p.m. We'd barely walked through the door before Angelina marched up to us and started yelling at Harry, obviously put out that he wouldn't be at the tryouts on Friday.

"Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the _whole team_, and find someone who _fit in with everyone_? Didn't I tell you I'd booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!"

"I didn't decide to not be there!" Harry yelled back. "I got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You-Know-Who –"

"Holy crap, you just said 'You-Know-Who!'" I chuckled, not entirely caring that Harry was talking to someone else.

To his credit, Harry did respond: he gave me a strange look, like he hadn't realized what he'd said, and then started to chuckle along with me, seeing something as funny for once.

"That doesn't matter," Angelina snarled, glaring at me before latching onto Harry again. "You go straight to her and ask her to let you off on Friday, and I don't care how you do it, tell her You-Know-Who's a figment of your imagination if you like, just _make sure you're there_!"

"He won't be there," I said seriously before Angelina could turn around. "If he asks to be let off on Friday, she'll say 'no' just to make him miserable. I've dealt with psychos like her before. She wants to be in control, and if she can control how miserable her enemies are, all the more power to her. Just keep Harry in mind during the tryouts, but don't expect him to be there. I can almost guarantee he won't be."

Ignoring Angelina's furious look, I took Harry's hand and guided him to the table where Ron and Hermione were waiting.

"I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session," Harry said darkly as we sat down, "because Angelina seems to be channeling his spirit."

"Old Quidditch Captain?" I asked.

Harry nodded as he tipped some lamb chops onto his plate, adding a few potatoes and sausages as well. Pursing my lips slightly, I grabbed a spoon and scooped a spoonful of carrots onto his plate. He needed more balanced meals, and it was bugging me like nothing else for some reason. Mom always insisted I eat balanced meals, so maybe that was rubbing off on me somehow …?

Harry gave me a weird look before shrugging and starting to eat.

"I hope she doesn't keep us too long this evening," he said after swallowing some potatoes. "You realize we've got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a countercharm for Flitwick, finish the bowtruckle drawing, and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?"

I sighed deeply and ran a hand through my hair at the thought of how much sleep I was going to be losing this week. I'd finished the bowtruckle drawing, thankfully, but I'd only gotten an outline for the Charms essay done. I still had to write that essay, as well as two for Transfiguration and Herbology, practice Vanishing Spells, and work out that countercharm. And that was just today's homework! The homework piling up over the week would bury if I let it!

After stuffing my face with chicken, potatoes, and carrots, I checked my watch and saw that Harry and I had five minutes to get to Umbridge's office. I said a hurried goodbye to Ron and Hermione and all but dragged Harry up to her office, cursing that … that … were-toad the whole way up.

Ha-ha …

Were-toad …

Wonder how I could use that …?

We managed to get there on time, thankfully. After Harry knocked, I leaned over and whispered,

"Don't ask about Quidditch. Just pretend she's already refused and move on. You'll be fine."

Harry nodded at me just before we heard Umbridge tell us to come in.

Her office was so nauseatingly pink and lacey that I had to actually fight to not have a physical reaction to it. The walls had been painted pink and had hundreds of painted-kitten-plates hung on every spare inch. Every other surface was covered in a lace doily, on which rested a vase of dried flowers. It was so … innocently girly on the surface, but the dead flowers and the hundreds of eyes watching us as we walked in lent some sort of … darker freakishness to the whole ensemble. Like I said, nauseating.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter. Miss Dolan."

The dark freak herself was sitting at her desk with a cup of tea in front of her, everything on her desk perfectly arranged around her. She was the center of her own little world in this office, and while we were here, she was making sure we knew it. What she said in here would have to go if we wanted to get out of here in one piece (figuratively speaking, I hope). I hated taking orders from people like her, but … maybe if she did something illegal during the detention, I'd be able to take proof to Professor McGonagall and get Umbridge fired!

"Evening," Harry said stiffly. I gave her a wary nod, not entirely trusting my smart mouth around her just yet.

"Well, sit down," she said, indicating two desks that were set up before her. They were on opposite ends of the office so Harry and I couldn't talk to each other. The items on the desk were a little strange: on the right side was a piece of blank parchment and on the left was a doily that was more solid cloth than lace, like a large handkerchief. If I was arranging it, I would have put the paper on top of the doily, not beside it. What was she planning?

Harry gave me a look before walking to the desk to our right, the one nearer to Umbridge. I smiled a little at his actions before heading to the desk nearer to the fireplace and a little further away from Umbridge. Putting himself closer to Umbridge would put himself more into the line of fire, which would no doubt be insanely uncomfortable for him, but he had decided to put himself there anyway. Whether he did it to protect me from her or because he felt she would insist he sit there anyway was his business, but it was still a bit touching that he could be feeling a bit protective toward me. Hardly anyone ever felt that sort of thing for me before …

"You're going to be doing some lines for me, children," Umbridge said when we were situated. "No, not with your quill," she said as we bent down to grab our quills. "You're going to be using rather special ones of mine."

"Um … sorry, but … you're letting us use _special_ quills of _yours_ for something as common as detention?" I asked, trying to stay off her bad side while still getting information. "You trust us with them?"

"I'll be watching you the whole time, Miss Dolan," Umbridge said primly as she deposited one quill on Harry's desk. It was long, thin, and black, with an unusually shark point.

"May I ask … what makes these quills special?" I asked as she approached me with the quill I was going to use, which looked identical to Harry's.

"You may ask," Umbridge trilled gaily as she set the quill on the parchment, "but I won't tell. You'll find out.

"Now, I want Miss Dolan to write 'I must respect my superiors.' And I want Mr. Potter to write 'I must not tell lies.'"

"… How many times?" Harry asked.

"Oh, let's see … as long as it takes for the message to _sink in_. Off you go."

"You haven't given us any ink," Harry said.

"Oh, you won't need ink," Umbridge said, barely a suggestion of a laugh in her voice.

If it wasn't for that knowing, excited laugh, I would have assumed the "special" part of the quill was something as simple as a Self-Inking component or something like it. With Umbridge, though, and what I already knew about her due to Professor McGonagall, I guessed it had to be something much darker than that.

Taking a deep breath, I put the quill to the parchment and wrote: _I must respect my superiors_.

A sense of dull, fiery pain began to lance up the back of my hand. It was similar to getting a tattoo (of which I had a couple), but this pain was going much deeper than skin-deep. Breathing deeply through my nose to keep from gasping out loud, I looked down at my left hand, the hand resting on the doily-handkerchief. I felt the blood drain away from my face as I saw the words I had just written appear on the back of my hand in my own handwriting. A moment later, the skin healed over, leaving my hand slightly pink but still quite smooth.

… This was Dark Magic!

This couldn't be legal!

Who the hell did she think she was?!

More than anything, I wanted to start screaming and swearing my head off at that horrid bitch and tell her exactly what I thought of her and her detention before storming out and slamming the door in her face as I went to find McGonagall. I turned my head to do just that, but then I caught sight of Harry, who was quite pale and looking very spooked as he stared at his hand. If I followed through with my plan, I would leave him here all alone to suffer through this hell. Professor McGonagall's words rang through my head, warning me to tread carefully around Umbridge and telling me that I needed to keep Harry safe. That made me think twice about retaliating in this way. Oh, I would be retaliating, no doubt about that. I just couldn't hurt Harry in the process. I would have to be more subtle about it.

"Yes?" Umbridge asked, almost as if she expected us to break.

I blinked and looked up at her innocently.

"I didn't say anything," I said. I looked over at Harry. "Did you, Harry?"

He looked up at me, horror hidden deep in his eyes before he saw me give him a small wink and half-smirk. He gulped and said in a surprisingly firm voice,

"Not me. Must have heard something else, Professor."

I gave Harry an approving smirk before getting back to work. It hurt, really bad, but I'd dealt with pain before. I just had to imagine I was getting a tattoo, a really deep and ugly-looking tattoo. Yes, it was sick and twisted and evil, but I'd dealt with that before and I will again. No one had made me break before, and Umbridge sure as hell wouldn't break me either.

Harry and I spent hours writing our assigned lines, cutting ourselves again and again and trying to ignore how absolutely wrong this whole mess was. As the cuts got deeper and deeper, my hand burned in a sharp and dull way at the same time, and it absolutely sucked! I wanted to stop so badly and I knew that I could stop, but Umbridge would make me pick up my quill again and keep writing. No whimper or cry left my mouth the entire time, but my breathing slowly became harder and more staggered as the pain started to get to me. I began to chew my lip and clench my body into one giant fist to take my mind off of the pain, but sometimes all that did was make it worse.

Finally, Umbridge called us to her desk and asked for our hands. Harry motioned for me to show my hand first. I did so, showing her my rubbed-raw hand, which she poked and prodded for a few seconds before asking for Harry's. His hand was pretty much in the same state, which made me cringe slightly.

"Tut, tut," Umbridge said, smiling evilly. "I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet. Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

Harry and I left her office without another word. I glanced at my watch on the way out and saw that it was almost midnight. We'd been in there for seven hours! And we had to do this three more times!

When we were out in the hall, we looked at each other. The horror of what we'd just experienced was clear on Harry's face, and I guessed that it was on mine as well. We managed to turn the corner before we couldn't hold back out instincts anymore – we ran as fast as we could toward Gryffindor Tower, coming to a gasping halt at the hallway just before it. We collapsed next to each other, trying to catch our breath before we got to the common room.

"What was …" Harry gasped. "Th-That quill …"

"B-Blood Quill," I choked. "Did a … a report … on them … last year. 'Kn-Know your enemy' … an' all that …"

Harry nodded before taking his wounded hand in his other and rubbing it slightly. His green eyes screwed themselves shut as pain hit him again. I reached over and took his hand before he made it worse.

"We'll get her," I said, the desire for vengeance burning deep in my gut. "Don't know how … but we'll get her. Together!"

Harry looked down at our hands for a moment before looking right in my eyes and nodding, squeezing my hand before standing up.

We walked toward the Fat Lady's portrait, hand-in-hand and solidified in our alliance and what I hoped would be a truly great friendship.


	12. The Pink Freak Calls

Hey guys, I'm back! I'm SOOOOOOOO sorry I abandoned you! I got into a car accident - completely totaled my car - and that seemed to knock my writing mojo right out of me! I apologize from the bottom of my heart and hope this appeases any unhappy followers!

In this story, I'm playing around a bit with a character that was barely introduced in the Harry Potter world in this chapter: the half-blood Tracey Davis of Slytherin House. Those three things are generally all we really KNOW about Tracey, but I found an essay on Harry Potter Lexicon that goes into detail about the classlist for Harry's year. It mentions Tracey and uses British culture and demographics to deduce that Tracey was probably raised in the Camden borough of London and has had to appease Pansy in order to survive in Slytherin, which I imagine is a very lonely existence since the only other half-blood girl is Millicent Bulstrode. In an attempt to create a more fleshed-out Tracey, I found a picture of the Choir during Harry's 5th year and saw six girls in the group - two sopranos, two mezzosopranos, and two altos. The two middle girls, who stand where the mezzosopranos stand, are a girl of African descent and a dark-haired girl of European descent. I figured the dark-haired girl would be Reggie and the other girl would be Tracey. Through my own stroke of genius, I remembered Pottermore mentioning the Sacred Twenty-Eight, a list created in the 1930s of pure-blood families that supposedly have the purest blood in England. Of the families on the list, the Shafiq family is one of the least documented, so I decided that Tracey's magical side comes from that family. "Shafiq" _is_ an Arabic name, but there are countries in Africa that use Arabic names for their own names, so I figured the Shafiq family was descended from an African Muslim family that came to Britain during the Elizabethan era as slaves and became free sometime later, either through their own power or through the power of the British government. The stuff coming up about goblins and banks is all based on the fact that the Moors in Spain were the first accountants; I just built on that fact and mixed in a little Harry Potter magic. Hope you guys enjoy Tracey - who is played by Keke Palmer from "Joyful Noise"!

As always, I'd like to thank my reviewers - tazzledmuch, ThatOneGirlNoOneNotices, and manicureval - for their awesome-sauce reviews! And as always, please read, enjoy, and review! Thank you!

-Owlix

**Chapter Twelve: ****The Pink Freak Calls**

The next day, my hand still burned, but it was better than the night before. Maybe if I put some aloe vera on it ...

Oh well, I didn't have any so I couldn't find that out.

I had Transfiguration, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures again today, so I figured I should at least try to finish the homework for those classes first. While I was getting dressed, I practiced Vanishing Spells, and I spent breakfast scribbling a Transfiguration essay down while stuffing my face with a breakfast burrito and chugging down some Ovaltine.

After asking where the choir met, I trotted to class, only to see that Professor Flitwick was the one teaching the class. I smiled a little, remembering how helpful he was. Maybe I could find a way to get a bit ahead on my Charms homework while I was here ...

The class was pretty fun, similar to my previous Choir class. Professor Flitwick had us all sing karaoke to see how we all sounded and where our voices fit most comfortably on the scale. The others sang popular wizarding songs or hymns, which all started to sound like each other after a while. When it was my turn, I asked him if he had a preference, and he cheerily told me to sing whatever was my favorite song at the moment. I laughed out loud and bowed, saying that his wish was my command.

It took me a minute to choose a song, but after a bit, I chose "Familiar Taste of Poison" by Halestorm, which would show off a bit of my range and how I could go from soft to hard and back again. The only thing I didn't like about it was how it would bring out a bit too much vulnerability because this song reminded me strongly of my mother's relationship with her husband. She knew he was no good and that she should get out, even if it was just for my sake, but she was almost addicted to him and how much she desired him. Basically, they were married so they could be the only person to have sex with the other. Anything else that happened when they weren't in bed was just something to deal with.

As I sang the rock ballad, the whole room stared at me, looking as if though they were barely breathing. When I finished, the audience paused for a very long moment and then burst into applause. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw Professor Flitwick smiling proudly and clapping just as loudly as the rest of the class.

"Well done, Miss Dolan!" he squeaked excitedly. "Splendid control, splendid tone, just … simply splendid! I think … a mid-to-high mezzosoprano for you! You'll be partnering with Miss Davis!"

I grinned when I saw a girl calmly waving me over. I skipped over to her and introduced myself. The dark-haired black girl said her name was Tracey Davis, and I got a huge kick out of her! She was a half-blood (Muggle dad and witch mother) from Camden, a borough of London. She was REALLY smart – she loved spending her summers at the British Museum where her father worked – and she wanted to make something amazing out of herself. Her mother was the only daughter of the Shafiq pureblood family, a family with deep connections to banks and goblins dating back to the Moors, and Tracey wanted to try to mend relations between wizards and goblins.

"If we had some sort of … ambassador between the two, one that both parties trusted," she told me over break, "things would go much smoother!" She said she was learning Gobbledegook, the goblins' language, and spending all of her free time studying goblin history and culture in preparation for getting a job in the Ministry in the Goblin Liaison Office. I grinned as I listened to her passionate speechifying; this girl had her life pinned down – past, present, and future! She was proud of her past and took inspiration for that to plan out her present in order to make her future the way she wanted.

After break, we made our way to Transfiguration. It wasn't until we got into the classroom for our double period that I noticed where Tracey was going to sit – with the Slytherins!

I blinked in surprise as I realized that Tracey was a Slytherin and had tried to make friends with me while knowing that I was a Gryffindor. I looked over at her and saw that, under her calm mask, she actually looked rather … nervous! She knew that I knew what she was now, and she was wondering if I would continue to be friendly with her. Looking around, I noticed that she'd sat down on the edge of Slytherin territory, leaving a seat open for someone to take … a seat that was close enough to Gryffindor territory to make any other self-respecting Slytherin nervous.

Ignoring the incredulous stares of my fellow Gryffindors, I walked over to Tracey and asked, "Is this seat taken?"

Tracey smiled in delighted relief and said, "Be my guest. If you dare."

I grinned back and sat down beside her without any hesitation.

"If I dare to stand up to the Were-Toad," I said, grinning wider at her barely smothered snort of laughter at my nickname for Umbridge, "I can dare to sit next to a Slytherin. Who knows? Maybe we could … end up friends?"

Tracey controlled her mirth and grinned back at me.

"I'd like that!"

Transfiguration was difficult due to the fact that I'd barely practiced Vanishing Spells, but poor Harry was clearly the worst. He stumbled through the class looking hopelessly lost and frustrated. He and I went to the library during lunch to finish some more homework, and during Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, we got more and more homework that we highly doubted we'd even get to start that night due to our detention with Umbridge, who was slowly inspiring more awful nicknames, each one dirtier and nastier than the last. To top it off, Angelina started harassing Harry when she found out he hadn't gotten Friday off. She actually dared to say that she expected players who wished to remain on the team to put training before their other commitments!

"I'm in detention!" Harry yelled after her as she stalked away. "D'you think I'd rather be stuck in a room with that old toad or playing Quidditch?!"

"At least it's only lines," Hermione said consolingly as Harry sat heavily on the bench and stared morosely at his steak-and-kidney pie. "It's not as if it's a dreadful punishment, really …"

I couldn't help flinching at Hermione's statement. If she only knew …

I absently rubbed the back of my hand, which had ached and pinched all day like a bad burn. I looked up at Harry, who looked like he was thinking too hard about something. I quickly kicked him under the table, making him look up at me in shock and indignation.

"Your ears were practically steaming just now," I said with a knowing smirk. "Give your brain a break before you wear it out!"

Harry blinked before chuckling quietly.

"Like you can talk," he chuckled. "Before you sat down next to Davis, I could hear your brain working!"

I gave a quick bark of laughter, almost missing how Harry jumped at the sound.

"Well, it would cause the drama of the year!" I cackled. "A Slytherin and a Gryffindor being friends? The horror! I was trying to decide if it's worth it!"

"And was it?" Ron asked sourly.

I gave him a cold glare that made him squirm almost instantly.

"Yes," I said firmly. "Tracey is intelligent, ambitious, and wants to make this world just a little better!"

"How?" Ron asked bitterly. "Poisoning fellow students?"

I picked up a Yorkshire pudding off of a nearby plate and chucked it right at Ron, smirking when it hit him in the eye. I noticed Hermione trying to hide a smirk behind her concern for Ron as she checked him over. Harry just laughed out loud at the sight of Ron being attacked by food.

"For your information, Ronald," I said, adopting Hermione's snootiest tone, "she actually wants to be an ambassador between wizards and goblins. Her mother's family has good connections with them, and she wants to use that to better our world. Maybe the goblins would be less likely to rebel if there were a few witches and wizards who were willing to get their side of the story."

"You think that would work?" Hermione asked, suddenly very interested in the idea. "It would be wonderful to finally get some equality in the wizarding world!"

"Tell me about it, 'Mione!" I said after swallowing a bite of steak-and-kidney pie. "Seriously, the way wizards treat goblins, it's just like how the Nazis treated the Jewish bankers before they shipped them off to those camps."

"Come again?!" Ron choked, looking completely confused, while Hermione and Harry nodded.

"Back in the forties," I said exasperatedly, "some nut called Adolf Hitler decided Jews were to blame for all of Germany's problems and used his political power to smear them with the Ugly Brush. One theory he had was that they'd achieve world domination by controlling all the banks, like the goblins do with us. Since a lot of Jews were bankers, people believed that theory quite easily."

Ron blinked at the idea that something in the wizarding world could be anything like the Muggle world, but since Detention was so close, I couldn't stay to debate it with him.

"Gotta go," I said as Harry and I stood up. "The Pink Freak calls."

Some of the others burst into laughter at the name while others, like Lavender Brown who LOVED pink, looked at least mildly offended. I shrugged and followed Harry out of the Great Hall, down the hall to our little corner of Hell.

Tonight's detention was just as bad as the night before and left our hands looking red and inflamed, like the skin was having an allergic reaction. We didn't let a single moan of pain or discomfort cross our lips, Harry only bidding her good evening and good night. Somehow he'd become the spokesperson for the pair of us; I didn't mind it as long as it kept me away from her.

When we got back to the Gryffindor common room, I immediately dug out the Charms essay I needed to finish for tomorrow. I had the Potions essay done but Harry didn't, so I whipped it out and passed it over to him, willing to cheat if it allowed us to get some more sleep. Normally I wouldn't cheat, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Harry muttered his thanks before scribbling his own essay down, nodding when I reminded him to reorder things and write in his own style so we wouldn't get caught.

After I finished the Charms essay, which took me about an hour and a half, I went over my schedule for the next day to see if I needed to do any more homework. Charms was done, Potions was done, and I didn't have any homework for Defense, so tomorrow was covered. After noticing that Harry had his homework from today out as well, I decided to get started on that next. The questions Professor McGonagall had set us about Vanishing Spells were easier than I'd originally thought since I had good notes, and Professor Grubbly-Plank's essay about the proper handling of bowtruckles was sloppy but complete. The Astronomy homework had been collected during our morning break and thankfully wouldn't be due until our next class on the following Wednesday, so we let that slide for now. After sharing what I had with Harry and hoping he was at least awake enough to not copy my work word-for-word, we trudged up to our dormitories. I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto my bed, only to instantly fall into a not-very-restful sleep.


	13. Making It All Worth It

Hey, y'all! I hope you guys liked my last chapter and that you'll like this new one. First things first, though, I have to give a MAJOR shout-out to the biggest fan of this fanfiction - tazzledmuch - who very kindly allowed me to use "Dumbridge", an Umbridge nickname she came up with. Tazzledmuch and kamomille were also the only two people to review this last chapter, so I don't know if everyone liked it or not. So, PLEASE write reviews - they make me very happy and let me know what I need to change (if I need to do that at all). Thanks again for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks!

-Owlix

**Chapter Thirteen: ****Making It All Worth It**

Going to class on Thursday was like walking through molasses while surrounded by the thickest pea-soup fog. I don't really remember much about each class; I turned in my paper in Charms and got another right away, I nearly got my head bitten off in Potions for not even attempting to read the recipe for the potion we were supposed to be making, and I literally held my eyelids open in Defense to keep myself from falling asleep.

Detention started as it had the last two nights, but two hours in, the phrase "I must respect my superiors" refused to heal and fade away. Instead it scabbed over, leaving the phrase literally written in blood on my hand. Normally this would have freaked me out, but I remembered Professor McGonagall telling me to come to her with anything I felt she needed to know. This was definitely something she needed to know, but I needed to have proof so she could actually make a case against Umbridge. After a slight pause to inspect my scabbed hand, I continued writing the same phrase over and over again, adding just a bit more pressure to dig just a bit deeper. It sounds sick, I know, but if it got Dumbridge fired and/or arrested, I would handle it.

To my right, Harry paused as well, long enough for Umbridge to notice.

"Ah," she said softly, moving around her desk toward him. "Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it? You may leave for tonight."

"What about …?" Harry asked, no doubt looking worriedly over at me.

I heard the click-clack of Umbridge's heels as she waddled over to me. I paused in my writing as she came up to me, her hand held out for mine. When I placed my hand in hers, I grimaced a little at the sight of my hand covered in blood, which was steadily oozing from the cuts I'd been inflicting.

"Well done, Miss Dolan," she cooed sickeningly. I bit my tongue against a swell of rage that awoke at those words. Well done, for abusing myself at her whim?! What the hell was the _matter_ with this bi … oh, you know what I mean!

"It seems you've got a decent reminder as well. You may leave with Mr. Potter for tonight."

"We still have to come back tomorrow, right?" I asked, knowing the answer but wanting to seem the whiney student so she wouldn't see my scheming.

"Oh yes," she said with a Cheshire Cat grin. "Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evening's work."

I simply sighed heavily and nodded, following after Harry as he left the room as fast as he could without seeming hurried. As we got far enough away, though, I let myself grin wolfishly. If the message was etched deeper than it was right now, it just might do some nerve or muscle damage to my hand. Thankfully it wasn't my wand hand, but it would be enough to show that Umbridge was VERY dangerous and shouldn't be allowed around children.

"What's that grin for?" Harry asked.

I grinned over at him and said, "I told you we'd get her."

When Harry just looked horribly confused, I looked up and down the hallway to make sure we were alone and began to elaborate.

"I told you I've studied Blood Quills, right?" At his nod, I continued. "They've been known to cause nerve and muscle damage if used for extended periods of time. I mean, think about it; you're carving into your hand, that's got to cause some damage! That's why they're considered Dark and just this side of illegal. If we show concrete proof that she's using those on students, we can get her sacked! Maybe even arrested!"

"But who would believe us?" Harry lamented. "They already think I'm a nutter, and, no offense, you're just some American witch who doesn't know how things are run here! She's literally a step below the Minister here; she has more than enough power to stop McGonagall in her tracks!"

"Then we'll go to Dumbledore!" I said, starting to get frustrated. "He's Headmaster, he can stop this!"

"He doesn't care!" Harry yelled, obviously close to his breaking point. "I made sure to tell him first that Voldemort was back, but over the summer, he had me followed, and he wouldn't tell me anything about what was happening and made _my friends_ swear to do the same! He did come to my hearing and get me off, but he wouldn't talk to me or even acknowledge me! He doesn't trust me, he doesn't think I can do anything, he won't even look me in the eye anymore! If he … didn't care about me before … why would he care now?"

That last sentence was said with such vulnerability and fear that, before I fully realized what had happened, my arms were around his waist and pulling him close. He noticeably stiffened in my embrace, but after a moment, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around me and hugged me back.

"I'm so sorry," I said into his shoulder. "I had no idea!"

Harry didn't say anything, just held me tighter and pressed his face into my hair.

"Maybe …" I said, "we should … test the waters with this. Tell McGonagall and get a better idea of what she can or can't do. If she can't do anything, we're on our own. If she can, we'll follow her lead. We don't have to bug Dumbledore about this just yet, 'kay?"

Harry nodded against my head just before I felt his body jerk as he gave a silent sob. I felt my heart break and my stomach plummet as I realized he was crying into my hair. My arms tightened even more around him and my hands began to stroke up and down his spine as I tried my best to comfort him. We stood there for a few minutes until he could get himself back under control.

"Talk to me, Harry," I begged quietly. "You don't have to tell me everything. Just say … something!"

It took a long wait, but Harry finally lowered enough of his walls to admit one heartbreaking truth of his.

"I haven't felt this alone … since before I got my Hogwarts letter. And it's worse this time. I … know what it's like now … to have support. To not have it anymore … it-it hurts!"

"I know," I murmured into his shoulder. "I feel the same. I haven't had to stand on my own for a long time … I'd almost forgotten how lonely it is. How … unbalanced you feel …"

There was a tense pause, as if Harry was waiting for more but didn't know how to ask for it.

"I had a teacher in Salem," I said, "who's more of a mom than anything. I could … talk to her about anything. She always stood up for me … even to the other teachers. I miss her so damn much! I want her here with me, telling me everything will be OK, that she'll take care of it!"

"Yeah," Harry murmured, rubbing my back this time. "What's her name?"

I smirked against his shoulder before saying, "Jo. Jo Rowling."

"Jo?" Harry asked.

"Short for Josephine," I said. "Her mom was a bit of a classic literature fan."

Harry let out a small chuckle, which made me smile a bit wider.

We stood there, quietly holding each other, for a long time before I dared to ask, "You know I support you, right?"

"… Yeah," Harry said quietly but firmly. "Yeah, I do. …Thanks."

I gave Harry one last squeeze and pulled back to smile at him. I casually used my fingers to wipe his cheeks dry, ignoring the fact that they were slowly warming under my touch.

"No problem," I said with an almost nonchalant smirk. "Shall we head back to our Pride?"

Harry blinked for a moment before smiling back at me. He nodded and started leading me down the hall. After a bit, I slipped my arm through his again, making him jump in surprise before grinning down at me.

We ran into Ron on the seventh floor, hiding behind a statue of someone called "Lachlan the Lanky" and clutching a broomstick in his hands. He nearly leapt out of his skin when he saw us and tried to hide his broom behind him.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Er – nothing," Ron stammered. "What are _you_ doing?"

"Following the Yellow-Brick Road," I snapped. "What d'you think we're doing?"

"Come on, you can tell us!" Harry said, smothering a snicker at my comment. "What are you hiding here for?"

"I'm – I'm hiding from Fred and George, if you must know," Ron said in a very fast, feverish way. "They just went past with a bunch of first years, I bet they're testing stuff on them again, I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Hermione and Reggie there."

"But what have you got your broom for?" Harry asked. "You haven't been flying, have you?"

"I – well – well, okay, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, alright?" Ron said defensively, steadily turning as red as a stop-light. "I-I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh."

Harry and I looked at each other before looking back at Ron.

"We're not laughing," Harry said. "It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you god?"

"I'm not bad," Ron said, looking relieved enough to melt into a puddle right in front of us. "Charlie, Fred, and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays."

"How would you do that?" I asked, wanting to be a part of the conversation, but not knowing exactly how Quidditch worked.

Judging by the horrified looks on Ron and Harry's faces, I'd asked one of the worst questions ever.

"You … d'you know Quidditch, Reggie?" Ron asked, looking absolutely appalled.

"Um, n-not really," I said, awkwardly avoiding their gazes. "Americans follow Quodpot more than Quidditch."

"Quod-what?!" Ron gasped.

"Quodpot," I said. "You basically have a ball that will explode if you don't put it in the other team's basket. If it explodes in your possession, you're out. Whichever team has the most points when at least one team is completely out wins the game. Real easy but loads of fun!"

Harry looked vaguely interested, but Ron just looked frankly disgusted. I gave them a slight shrug.

"I am interested in Quidditch though," I said with an excited smile. "From what I've been told, it looks really exciting!"

Properly placated, Ron and Harry spent our trek to Gryffindor Tower explaining Quidditch to me. Per team, there were three Chasers who would make goals, two Beaters who would defend their team and attack their opponents, one Keeper who would defend the goal posts, and one Seeker who would find the one ball that would more often than not win their team the game. There were rules about what you could and couldn't do, obviously, and leave it to Ron to know all the ways to foul in a Quidditch game. He would have listed all SEVEN HUNDRED of them if I hadn't told him he was starting to sound like Hermione, which made Harry laugh out loud.

We got to the common room, which was bustling with life. I looked around at the teens and preteens around me, suddenly feeling like a ghost walking through the crowd. Harry and I sat down on the couch in front of the fire, getting out our homework in the knowledge that we needed to get as much of it done as possible just in case Umbridge kept us longer than normal.

A few minutes later, we heard Ron and Hermione coming toward us. Ron was asking for help on his essay and eventually, Hermione agreed to write the introduction and conclusion.

"Hermione, you are honestly the most wonderful person I have ever met," Ron gushed in relief. "If I'm ever rude to you …"

"I'll know you've gone back to normal," Hermione said with a small grin as she sat down next to Harry and Ron sat down next to me.

We sat there for a while before Hermione asked Harry what was wrong with his hand.

"Nothing," Harry said, showing her his unblemished right hand while simultaneously hiding his marred left hand under the book he was reading.

"Your other hand!" Hermione hissed, reaching out to grab it. She gently pulled Harry's sleeve down a little to get a better view of his hand, slowly looking more and more horrified.

"You've got to go to Dumbledore!" she said, looking absolutely outraged.

"No," Harry said, taking his hand back and scooting slightly more towards me. "Dumbledore's got enough on his mind right now. Anyway, I don't want to give Umbridge the satisfaction."

"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron gasped, looking sick and more than a little angry, "the woman's torturing you! If your parents knew about this …"

"Yeah, well I haven't got any of those, have I Ron?" Harry asked caustically, causing a rather tense silence that only lasted a couple seconds.

"Harry, you've got to report this," Hermione said stiffly, obviously disapproving of Harry's choice to not say anything. "It's perfectly simple, you're being –"

"No, it's not!" Harry said, looking almost offended. "Hermione, whatever this is, it's not simple! You don't understand," he added, beginning to pack his things.

"Then help us to!" Hermione begged, but Harry just ignored her.

Just before he stormed up to his dorm, I reached out and grabbed his sleeve, making him look at me.

"You want me to join you?" I asked.

He looked at Ron and Hermione before giving me a curt nod. I nodded back and released his sleeve, allowing him to storm off as I prepared myself for what I was about to say.

"The last time Harry 'reported' something," I said, trying to stay calm, "he was called a glory-seeking liar. Even if he has proof, they just might find a way to wiggle out of whatever legal crap follows."

"But if he goes to Dumbledore –" Hermione started, but I overrode her.

"I offered to do that, too," I said, talking through gritted teeth this time. "He says Dumbledore doesn't care anymore, that he's dropped Harry like a used tissue. And from what Harry's told me, I wholeheartedly agree! He wanted information this summer, but he couldn't even ask the people he trusted most 'cuz they wouldn't share even the tiniest hint with him!"

"Dumbledore made us –"

"Made you swear, I know!" I said heatedly. "But surely you could have found a way around it! Found a way Death Eaters wouldn't be able to track or intercept! Like, I dunno, using a cell phone! You can buy a couple cheap ones at the store that only call and text and used them to communicate! Seriously, you guys! He needs your support, and you kissing the ground Dumbledore walks on isn't helping! Dumbledore obviously wants Harry to be left alone, defenseless, and vulnerable, which makes it so damn easier for Voldemort to snatch him up!"

"Watch your lan –"

"I think I'm entitled to a little swearing right now!" I said, standing up and scooping my homework into my arms. "Yes, I know you don't like it, but if it's the only way to make you listen, then I'll swear away! Let me know when you're ready to support Harry as real friends should."

With that, I stormed up to the fifth year boys' dorm room, where I found Harry sitting on his bed, stretching his neck in a way that reminded me of a snake shedding its skin. I walked over to him and sat down, dropping my homework on the floor in front of me.

"What do you make of this Charms essay?" I asked, ignoring how he'd jumped when I sat down. "I can barely remember what we talked about."

Harry stared at me for a moment before reaching over and taking my hand, squeezing it tightly in gratitude. I interlocked our fingers and squeezed back, returning his thanks. Then he dropped my hand and picked up his Charms book, opening to the chapter we'd gone over that day.

We spent the evening going over most of our homework and avoiding anything to do with Umbridge, including her assignments. We knew that griping and worrying about her wouldn't fix the problems we had with her, so we set them aside in favor of helping each other in the few ways we could.

Once we had our Charms and Potions essays completed, we sat on opposite ends of Harry's bed and just talked some more about Quidditch. Harry was the Seeker for his team, like his father had been before him, and he was incredibly passionate about it. He told me about past games (which made me cheer and cringe in equal amounts) and about his views on the upcoming season.

That hour or so of talking and laughing created something that I felt Harry truly needed this year – a safe haven, a place he could go to get away from everything and be "Just Harry", the boy who played Quidditch and ate treacle tarts and never had to worry about zits, instead of "Harry Potter", the Boy-Who-Lived-As-The-Boy-Who-Lied. More than anything, I wanted Harry to feel safe with me, to trust me, to want to confide in me. I'd never felt it so strongly before or acted on any such feelings before, so I didn't really know if I was doing this right. What showed me that I was, though, was the hug Harry gave me before I left to go to bed. The feeling of his arms pulling me almost desperately close and the sound of his tremulous voice quietly thanking me made all of his drama-queen temper tantrums worth it.

**A/N: Who can spot my little tribute to the mastermind behind Harry Potter? A hundred House Points to who first guesses right! :D**


	14. Here To Stay

Hey, y'all! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter! As promised, the 100 House points will be awarded to the first person to point out my tribute to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and that person is ... ThatOneGirlNoOneNotices of Ravenclaw! Woo-hoo, congrats!

OK, for reals now! Thanks to all my awesome reviewers - ThatOneGirlNoOneNotices, thoughtsoftheanonymous , shadowcat200 (Guest), and of course, tazzledmuch - for all your love and support! I'm trying something new in this chapter - HARRY'S POV! Pleas let me know what you think! Does it sound like him? Is it realistic for him to say what he says here? Or am I completely off the mark here? I normally don't write in a male POV, so any feedback would be absolutely fantastic! Again, please read, enjoy, and REVIEW! Thanks, love you guys!

-Owlix

**Chapter Fourteen: ****Here To Stay**

Harry's POV:

I woke up to see a sky as sullen as I felt, with inky-gray clouds swirling around as if begging to unleash the chaos they held. I sighed quietly and forced myself to get up, telling myself that today was the final day I would have to endure Umbridge's detentions and that I might be able to see Ron's tryout from her office. Those rays of light were feeble at best, but I couldn't let them go if I wanted to stay sane.

I got to the common room and found Reggie waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs with an encouraging smile on her face. Despite the gloom I felt, I couldn't help but smile back at her as she slipped her arm through mine and allowed me to escort her to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Seeing her again made me remember that couple of hours last night that she'd spent with me, not worrying about Voldemort or Umbridge for once. She made sure I didn't talk about anything that might bring those two subjects up, quickly changing the subject if we strayed there and almost overwhelming me with a feeling of … normalcy. I don't know what it was about Reggie, but I never felt like I had to be "Harry Potter" around her. I could be "Just Harry", and that was enough to keep her attention, make her feel comfortable around me, make her smile or laugh, and maybe even trust me. She wasn't afraid to call me out on my attitude and she always did it in a way that woke me up as effectively as a bucket of ice-cold water. She was enthusiastic to learn about my view of the world, even if it was much darker or frightening than her own. She was also so … understanding of what I was going through, willing to defend me even to my closest friends. Every moment I spent around her seemed important, like something inside me was literally clinging to her presence, and I couldn't help but pay the closest attention to her as she chose to spend more and more time around me.

During breakfast, she continued to insist on giving me extra food, this time putting a couple fried eggs onto my plate. The way she did it so casually and almost mischievously smothered any anger I might feel at the idea of being fussed over and always persuaded me to eat whatever she put on my plate. I knew Seamus thought she had me whipped (he'd been blowing off to Dean again while I was trying to sleep), but after having lived so long with someone not caring if I ate well or not every day, it was nice to be looked after and cared about for once.

History of Magic was actually funny this time around because I started watching Reggie out of the corner of my eye as she fought to stay awake in order to keep myself awake. Sometimes she would shake her head vigorously and send her dark hair flying around her face, creating a dark halo of curls; other times, she would pinch herself on her wrist or cheek, making me wince at how stoically she took the pain; by the end of class, she was literally holding her eyes open with her fingers, making me fight to not burst into laughter.

Study Hall, a class that had been introduced last year, was mainly a case of helping each other out as we had last night. We went over our essays again, scouring our books for any information to flesh them out, and made certain we understood the concepts enough to do well on a test. Unlike Snape, who had monitored the class last year, Professor Flitwick saw nothing wrong with sharing information for the sake of learning and allowed the students to talk as long as it was along the lines of comparing notes or asking for help.

After lunch, during which Ron and Hermione kept themselves apart from us, the afternoon was simply dedicated to relaxing outside. I took Reggie on a small tour of the grounds, knowing we would need to be at Umbridge's office at five o'clock. She liked giving me a heart attack by teasing the Whomping Willow, loved splashing me when we went down to the Black Lake, and absolutely adored walking around the Quidditch pitch as I described the game to her again. I would have given her a ride on my Firebolt, but we needed to head to Umbridge's office or we would be late for detention.

At five o'clock that night, I was knocking on Umbridge's door, arm-in-arm with Reggie to give comfort and support to each other. When we were told to enter, we let go of each other and did so for what I sincerely hoped would be the last time. The blank parchments were waiting for us on the lace-covered tables, the blasted quills beside them.

"You know what to do, children," Umbridge said sweetly.

Her face like stone, Reggie marched over to her desk, sat down, and began to write almost feverishly, no doubt causing her hand even more damage than was strictly necessary. I felt a small jolt of worry for her but smothered it to make sure Umbridge didn't see it as I sat down, wiggling my chair just an inch or so to the right to give myself a clearer view of the Quidditch pitch, though it was impossible to tell which Keeper was Ron from this distance.

_I must not tell lies,_ I wrote. I flinched slightly as the cut on my hand reopened and began to bleed again.

_I must not tell lies._ The cut went deeper, stinging as my fingers barely flexed.

_I must not tell lies._ Blood had landed on the lace beside the parchment, staining it red.

I risked one small glance out the window. Whoever was Keeping was doing very poorly, as the Chaser had scored twice in the few seconds I dared watch. I returned my gaze to the parchment before the pause in writing could alert Umbridge. I forced myself to keep going, knowing that I couldn't stop until Umbridge told me I could. I peeked at the tryouts whenever I could, making quick judgements on the little I could see. One person was pretty good, the next was terrible, and another could dodge Bludgers spectacularly but fumbled easy saves. With how dark the sky was getting, I doubted I would see the last two people at all.

"Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" Umbridge asked sweetly thirty minutes later.

She waddled over to me and reached out with her knobby, stubby fingers to grab my left arm. The moment she touched me, my forehead burned with pain and I felt the strangest swoop in my stomach, almost like the one I felt whenever I made Reggie laugh. Before I could even think, I wrenched my arm from her grasp and leapt to my feet, knocking over the chair in my haste to get away from her. I heard Reggie gasp and swear quietly, but I was too busy staring at Umbridge to check on her as she smiled sickeningly at me.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" she asked.

My scar or my hand? Which was she talking about?!

"Well, I think I've made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go."

Only then did I dare to glance over at Reggie, who was holding her steadily-bleeding hand as if it was hurting very badly. She looked nervous to be around Umbridge but resolved to fight through this mess.

"Miss Dolan will remain here until she had gotten the message," Umbridge said, no doubt seeing the glance I'd given Reggie. "You may _go_, Mr. Potter."

I started turning and made eye contact with Reggie again, who nodded firmly at me and jerked her head toward the door, telling me it was alright to leave.

Walking down to the classroom door was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do. It felt like I was a piece of metal walking away from a magnet; every inch of me wanted to be back with Reggie or at least taking her place. I was the one who'd picked the fight in class; she'd just supported me in that! She shouldn't be punished for being friends with me!

I found an alcove near the Defence classroom and sat there, waiting for Reggie to come out and ... praying that she would be alright. I knew what had happened with my scar was a very bad sign, but I was too worried about Reggie to even think about anything else, which was mental! I knew she could take care of herself and that she would be fine, but the idea of her being alone with Umbridge where I couldn't be there to support her somehow made me nauseous and made my head hurt even more. It felt like there was suddenly a wall in my head and there was someone hitting it with a battering ram.

I have no idea how long I sat there with my head in my hands to try and help my headache, but the moment I heard the door open, my head was up and my eyes were anxiously peering into the shadows to see who was there. The relief I felt at seeing Reggie, in a bit of a temper and obviously fine, was almost overwhelming.

"Reggie!" I called, stumbling to my feet and hurrying over to her.

"Harry?" she hissed, looking shocked and confused at my being there. "What are you –?"

"Are you alright?" I asked, gripping her shoulders lightly in an attempt to show myself that she was here, safe, with me!

"Y-Yeah, I'm – I'm fine!" she said, flinching away from me slightly for a moment before looking up at me. "Are you OK? You look like you've just ... had a-a nightmare or something!"

I opened my mouth to tell her what had happened with Umbridge but closed it when I realized that she had no idea what was going on with me and Voldemort. The idea that she had no clue what had happened and still stood by me and supported me was strangely humbling. Without a word, I pulled her close and hid my face in my hair as I had last night. Somehow, holding her and breathing in the scent of coffee and vanilla that always clung to her centred me and gave me the strength I would need to say what I needed to say.

"Harry?" she asked as I pulled away, suddenly sounding very small and scared as she looked up at me.

"I ... I need to tell you something," I said, holding onto her shoulders again. "It's ... really bad ... and it'll make you run off and you'll probably never get a real night's sleep again, but I need to tell you! You need to know."

She blinked once, and then I watched as a strong, steely look came into her gaze. Her hands came up and grasped the opening in my robes as she stared right into my eyes.

"Is it about Voldemort?" she asked solemnly.

I was surprised she guessed it but nodded.

She nodded in return before releasing my robes with a small wolfish grin.

"Lead the way, boss!" she said, slipping her arm through mine as I gaped at her. We somehow made it to the Fat Lady, who opened when Reggie said the password, and up to my dormitory, but I can't really tell you how. I was just so gobsmacked that she was taking all this in stride! Most people would have left the moment they could ... but then again, Reggie wasn't "most people".

We stayed up there for hours, sitting on opposite ends of my bed as I told her everything about the last four years, even mentioning a few things I hadn't ever told Ron and Hermione. She spent the first thirty minutes curled up at the foot of my bed with a stony expression on her face as she silently dared me to shock her.

When I got to the part about what was really under Professor Quirrell's turban, her eyes widened dramatically and she surprisingly began to chuckle. When I asked her what she was laughing at, she reminded me that the Weasley twins had charmed snowballs to hit the back of Quirrell's head that Christmas, which meant they'd been hitting Voldemort in the face the entire time. I gaped at her for a moment before starting to laugh myself, not realizing that at all until then.

She was especially angry over how people had treated me during my second year. She actually brought up a very good point: if I was the Heir of Slytherin, why would I have spent my time with a blood traitor and a Muggleborn? She actually made me laugh again when she called Ernie McMillan a "paranoid, snot-nosed punk" who wouldn't know the Heir of Slytherin if he kissed him on the mouth. The mental picture of Voldemort kissing anyone, let alone a Hufflepuff student, was absolutely stupid and yet hilarious.

When I told her about my third year and my adventures with Sirius Black, she became especially alert. She asked me if Sirius was the brother I was going to be asking about her father, and I told her yes. It almost broke my heart to see hope flicker in her eyes before being firmly shut out by whatever stone-cold, realistic thoughts she'd told herself to keep from getting her hopes up.

The story of my fourth year got the most spirited reaction out of her. She was furious that Dumbledore hadn't tried to help me get out of the Tournament, ecstatic that I'd showed the world what I could do in the tasks, miffed with Ron for even thinking I was showing off somehow, horrified with stories of Professor Moody's classes, and heartbroken at the tale of the Third Task and what had happened afterwards. That tale was the hardest one to tell, partially because it was hard to remember what was part of my dreams and what was memory and partially because my worst nightmares had literally come to life that night and talking about it made it more real.

When I was done, I lay down on the bed and waited for her to decide that it was too dangerous to be with me and leave. I was surprised when she crawled up the bed and sat down right next to my head. She made me sit up and scooted over to where my pillow was before pulling me down until my head was in her lap. When I looked up at her questioningly, all she said was,

"I don't know how you got through those four years without me, but you don't need to worry about that anymore."

I slowly reached up and took the hand she had on my chest as her words sank into every dark spot inside me. Tears burned my eyes, but I closed them before she could see them. She simply squeezed my hand and used the other to run her fingers through my hair as I fought to get myself under control. I told myself that I couldn't cry, not here where she could see me, but my ruddy eyes wouldn't listen. Tear after tear broke free of my eyes and fell down my cheeks and into her lap as I finally realized that she was really here to stay.


	15. Betrayals and Promises

Only two reviews?! Was my interpretation of Harry's POV that bad? I really hope not, because I want to do another few chapters in Harry's POV eventually ... Well, I guess we'll see.

Anyway, in this chapter we have the awesome confrontation between Professor McGonagall and Professor Umbridge! I'll admit I quoted the movie, but I'm saying right now that I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER! I hope you like this and that Reggie's reaction is believable, especially at the end of the chapter. The way I see it, Reggie's coming from a place where she's hidden her pain and past deep inside and had never told anyone what had happened to her before. To go to a person in authority, admit that she was badly hurt by someone else, trust that the person she confessed to would be able to help her, and see right in front of her eyes that the person can't, to me, would seem like a betrayal to the shy, frightened child the Sorting Hat saw in her mind during the Sorting. It will definitely harden her to the Hogwarts staff and make her much more willing to take matters into her own hands, like Harry does already.

To tazzledmuch and MKTerra, my two amazing reviewers, thanks SO much for your love and support! To everyone else, read, enjoy, and REVIEW! Thanks!

-Owlix

**Chapter Fifteen: ****Betrayals and Promises**

Hearing about the last four years of Harry's life was like listening to a series of well-written novels. I could clearly picture everything Harry was telling me; he was a natural storyteller who had a talent for painting amazing pictures with nothing but words.

I paid special attention to anything he said about his godfather, Sirius Black, who could potentially be my uncle. I liked how loyal and brave he was, but he also seemed very immature and rather spiteful. Hearing how he thought it would be "funny" to trick a fellow student to sneak into a room that held a fully-grown werewolf turned my stomach more than a little, whether or not that fellow student was Snape. Still, he could be family, and I would love to meet him if he was. I wanted to know where I came from and have something in my past to brag about and be proud about.

What absolutely broke my heart was how shocked Harry was when he realized that I was staying around. He held my hand like it was his last lifeline and cried silently as I stroked his hair and tried to not cry myself. In that moment, he finally looked like the scared fifteen-year-old he was; for so long, he'd held onto his mask of the Boy-Who-Lived that he'd all but forgotten how to be "Just Harry".

We stayed there until the other boys went to bed; they couldn't see us because we'd drawn the curtains around the bed before we started talking. Harry had managed to cry himself to sleep about an hour before, so once all the boys started snoring, I carefully got out of his bed and stood up on legs that fallen asleep long ago. Once I knew I wouldn't trip while my feet were waking up, I quickly scribbled a note for Harry explaining where I'd gone and pinned it to the inside of his bed's curtains where he would find it. Hermione and the other girls were asleep when I got there, so I just put my pajamas on and went to bed as quietly as I could.

I didn't get a whole lot of sleep that night, my dreams filled with my mind's version of what had happened to Harry. Hermione finally woke me up to find me growling and snapping like a cranky wolverine. Definitely afraid of getting her head bitten off, she told me that breakfast was almost over and that I needed to get a move on if I wanted anything to eat.

About ten minutes later, I found myself in front of Professor McGonagall's office with a napkin full of jam-covered slices of toast in my bloodied and bandaged left hand. I have to say, Professor McGonagall seemed very surprised to see me.

"Miss Dolan! What can I do for you?" she asked.

"You said to come to you if I found something you needed to know," I said simply.

Professor McGonagall nodded crisply and let me in, completely professional in the realization that this wasn't a social visit. I held out my toast and jam in offering, having noticed that she seemed to be partial to boysenberry while I preferred raspberry. She accepted her slice with a grateful smile and took a few bites before gesturing to me to speak.

I took a deep breath and set the toast down before holding up my wounded hand.

"And what exactly happened here, Miss Dolan?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking a little confused and more than a little indignant.

"Detention," I said coldly. "With Umbridge. Harry's hand is the same way."

With that, I started unwrapping the bandage, revealing the hated words carved into my hand. I noticed that the skin around it was red and slightly swollen, like it was starting to get infected or something.

"Sweet, merciful Merlin!" Professor McGonagall gasped, hurrying around her desk to get a better look at my hand. She looked absolutely horrified as she examined the wound, gently running her fingers over it and carefully prodding at certain spots. She had me flex my hand, drum my fingers, and hold various items to make sure I didn't have any nerve damage. Then she stormed over to her desk and began to write vigorously on a parchment. I stood up and walked around the desk to see what she was writing; turns out she was documenting my injury and the effects the injury had on my hand in general.

Then the strangest thing happened.

She stood up and stormed out of her office, her face absolutely thunderous.

I was too shocked to do anything at first, not having expected to react so strongly this soon after my confession, but after a while I realized I was missing a show and hurried to find her. I found her in the Entrance Hall talking to Professor Umbridge on the staircase.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Umbridge oozed, "but what exactly are you insinuating?"

"I am merely requesting," Professor McGonagall, "that when it comes to my students, you conform to the prescribed disciplinary practices!"

Umbridge paused before saying sternly, "So silly of me, but it sounds as though you are questioning my authority in my own classroom … Minerva." Then she took a step up the stairs, putting her just above Professor McGonagall.

My eyes almost popped out of my head at the sheer and complete disrespect this toad had in her towards the staff here. Not only was she placing herself above Professor McGonagall as if she felt she belonged there, but she wasn't even awarding Professor McGonagall the respect of referring to her by the title she'd held for many years! If anything, Professor McGonagall was above Umbridge in the hierarchy of the Hogwarts staff since she, not Umbridge, was Deputy Headmistress of the school! How I itched to slap that horrible, smug smile off of that ugly, pasty face.

Fortunately, Professor McGonagall was not to be intimidated.

"Not at all, _Dolores_," she snarled, taking a step up to bring herself level with Umbridge again. "Merely your medieval methods!"

"I'm sorry, dear," Umbridge sniffed, sounding absolutely offended, "but to question my practices is to question the Ministry and, by extension, the Minister _himself!_ I am a tolerant woman, but the one thing I will not stand for … is _disloyalty!_"

I felt my stomach sink down to the floor as Professor McGonagall took a step back, repeating the word "disloyalty" as if it had punched her in the gut. I understood her sentiment; disloyalty is one thing that any Gryffindor found completely disgusting since we were always loyal to the causes and people that we believed in, and to accuse a Gryffindor of it was to say they weren't a true Gryffindor. Umbridge might as well have had Professor McGonagall's Sorting revoked for all the damage she'd just done.

Umbridge took another step up, fixing Professor McGonagall with a haughty look before saying, "Things at Hogwarts are far worse than I feared. Cornelius will want to take immediate action!"

In a million years, I would never know what made me do it, but I stepped forward and said the words that would make me Umbridge's enemy forever.

"Let him try. I'll be ready!"

I gave Umbridge the full fury of my glare all while standing alone in the middle of the Entrance Hall with a few members of the student body behind me. I was surprised when I felt someone put their hand in mine. I almost immediately recognized the strong yet gentle grip as Harry's. A couple moments later, I felt Hermione's feminine and firm hand slip into my free hand. Then, the sound of multiple feet came up behind me as many different students came up and either held the hand of someone in the line or put his or her hand on another's shoulder. Professor McGonagall looked to be frightened but very proud of us, while Umbridge's face was very stony, like she was mentally preparing herself to go to war with Hogwarts itself. Without a word, she turned and continued back up the stairs.

Professor McGonagall came up to us and looked Harry and me straight in the eyes.

"Your hand as well, Potter?" she asked.

Harry simply nodded, serious and firm as any soldier.

After nodding in return, she stepped back to survey all of the students before her.

"You all must be very careful," she said, sounding very tired and anxious. "As you have just seen, there is very little that I can do to keep Professor Umbridge in line. I implore you to be smart and to know that I am here to help you if you do need it. I cannot promise that I will be able to do anything of importance, but anything I can do for you, my students, I will do without any hesitation.

"I am keeping a record of Professor Umbridge's dealings in preparation for the day she gets her … comeuppance. If you do come to me about her, know that every word and action will be recorded and witnessed by myself and any other teacher who picks up this practice.

"Now, I'm sure you all have breakfast to finish and homework to handle. Away!"

She shooed us off with a feeble wave of her long, regal hands, and the crowd started to shuffle away.

I couldn't move from my spot, though. I was too overwhelmed with what had just happened. I had actually put my trust in an adult for one time in my life of independence and admitted some of the abuse I'd suffered, and all of my fragile hopes had come crashing down the moment Professor McGonagall took that step down. I stood there, trembling as I fought the onslaught of emotions that I felt clawing its way out of me in the form of tears. Just before I exploded, I felt Harry take hold of my hand with his other hand and put his now-free hand on my back as he guided me out into the open.

We managed to get over the covered bridge before the momentum got a hold of me and I began to run. I heard Harry call out my name as he followed me, but the sound almost seemed to flow right through me as I ran faster and faster with every moment. I ran until I came to a clearing set on the edge of the Black Lake. Completely winded and exhausted and needing some sort of release, I fell to my knees and began to cry great, heaving sobs that seemed to come from a deep well of hurt inside me.

One part of my mind noticed the sound of Harry's footsteps as he approached me and knelt beside me. He stayed there for a moment before gingerly placing a hand on my shoulder and slowly drawing me close, as if he didn't quite know what he was doing. I let him hold me as I laid my head on his shoulder, soaking his jacket through with my tears.

"You're not alone," he said quietly as he lifted another hand to start stroking my hair as I had his just last night. "I'm right here. I'll always be here, I promise."


End file.
